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THE 

POETICAL WORKS 

OF J 

ROBERT BURNS, 

INCLL'DiNO 

SEVERAL PIECES 
KOT INSERTED EN DR. CU ERIE'S EDITION: 

EXHIBITED UNDKR 

A NEW PLAN OF AFvRANGEMENT, 

AND P?iECEDED B V 

A LIPE OF THE AUTHOR 

AND 

A COMPLETE GLOSSARY. 



two volumes in one. 
Vol. L 



BOSTON: 
PHILLIPS AND SAMPSON 

110 Washington Street. 
18-19. 



r^^ 



-b^^ 






R. HUTCHESON. 

II J1'05 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The present edition was undertaken bj' a gen- 
tleman with the view of presenting the public 
with the Poetical Works of Burns more metho- 
dically arranged, more copiously illustrated, and 
less expensive in the purchase, than they have 
yet appeared. 

In comparing it with others, it vvill be Ibund 
to possess several advantages. 

I. It contains, besides a number of oiber 
pieces, »ot inserted in Dr. Currie's edition, T'/ie 
Jolly Beggars, a cantata replete with humorous 
description and discrimination of character, and 
inferior to no poem of the same length in the 
English language. It likewise comprehends 
Holy Willie'' s Frayer, a piece of satire unequalled 
for exquisite severity, and felicitous delineation. 

II. In the editions hitherto published, no re- 
gard is paid to method or classification. In this, 
the poems are disposed according to their re- 
spective subjects, and divided into five books. 

III. Most of the poetry of Burns, though pos- 
sessing an energy, a richness, and an ardour, 
which never fail to strike and captivate the mind, 
yet appears under great disadvantages to the 
English reader. IMuch of the fire, which warms 
and dazzles a native of Scotland, is to him ne- 
cessarily lost by the obscurity of the language 



V jmrEIlTlSEMEJi'T. 

To obviate this as much as possible, a consider- 
able number of words have been added to the 
Ghssari/y and several of the old definitions have 
been corrected or enlarged. A new Life, drawn 
up with care and fidelity, has likewise been pre- 
fixed. I j 
Of an edition, thus enkrg"ed and improved, it ! 
is unnecessary to say more. Shovdd its utility 
be acknovvledg-ed, the editor will cons'ider his 
exertions sufficiently rewarded. J. T. 

London, Feb. 25, 1819. 



COM TENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME 



Page 
Advertisement ...... 3 

Life of Burns 9 

Glossary ...... 43 

Preface to the First Edition .... 69 

Dedication to the Second Edition . . .73 



BOOK I. 

MORAL, RELIGIOUS, AND PRECEPTIVE. 

The Twa Dogs 75 

The Brills of Ayr 81 

The Vision ....... 86 

The Cotter's Saturday Night . . . .93 

Verses written in Friar's-Carse Hermitage, on Nith- 

Side 93 

A Prayer wider the Pressure of Violent Anguish 100 

A Prayer in the Prospect of Death . . . ib. 

Stanzas on the same occasion . . . .101 

Verses left by the Author at a reverend friend's house, 

in the room ichere he slept .... 102 
A Grace before Dinner ..... 103 

The First Psalm ib. 

The first six verses of the Ninetieth Psalm . . ib. 

Epistle to a Young Friend . . . .104 



BOOK II. 

PATHETIC, ELEGIAC, AND DESCRIPTIVE. 

Man ivas made to Mnnrn .... 107 
A Winter Night 109 



vi CONTENTS. 

Fago 

Winter . . . . . . . ]11 

Despondency . . . , . . 112 

To Ruin. 114 

Lament of Mary, Q,-ueen of Scots, on the approach 

of Spring T . , . . . 115 

The Lament, occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a 

Friend's Amour . . . . . . IIS 

Lament of a Mother for the Death of her Son . 118 

Lament for James, Earl of Glencdirn . .119 

Lines seyit to Sir John Whiteford, of Whiteford, Bart. 

with the foregoing Poem .... 121 

Str at kalian's Lament . . . . , ib. 

TJie Chevalier's Lament . . . . 122 

7V/,e Author's Fareitsll to his Native Country . ib. 

Farewell to Ayrshire ...... 123 

Tlie Farewell to the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, 

Tarbolton ...... 121 

Fareirell to Eliza 125 

Highland Mary ...... ib. 

To Mary in Heave^i . . . . . 12G 

Elegy on the late Miss Burnet, of Monboddo . 127 

Ver>ies on reading, in a newspaper, the death of John 

M'Leod, Esq. brother to a young lady, a particular 

friend of the Author's .... 123 

Sonnet on the Death of Robert Riddel, Esq. of Glen 

Riddel, April, 1794" ib. 

Verses on the death of Sir James Hunter Blair . 129 

Address to the Shade of Thomson on crowning his 

Bust, at Ednam, Ruxlmrgshire, icith Bays , ISC' 

Epitaph for the Author's Fat ker ... 131 

^ — for R. A. Esq. . . . . . ib. 

• — ■ on a Friend ..... ib. 

A Bard's Epitaph . . . . _ . .132 

Verses on the birth of a posthumous child, born in 

peculiar circumstances of family distress . ib. 

CM Sensibilitj/ 133 

Verses on seeing a wounded Hare limp by me, which a 

fellow had just shot at .... 134 

Lines on scaring some Water-fowl in Loch Turit, a 

wild scene among the Hills of Ought^rtyre . ib. 

Sonnet, written on the 23th of January, 1793, tks 

birthday of the author, on hearing a thrush in a 

morning I'ealk . . ' . . . .135 

To a Mouse, on turning her up in her nest, icith the 

Plough, November, 1785 .... 136 

To a, Mountain Daisi/, on turning 07ie down with the 

Plough, April. \7$6 137 

The humble Petit io^i. of B mar Water . . . 138 



C0NTEN7'S. rii 

tines, written with a pmcil, over the Chiiymey-piece 
in the parlour of the inv at Kcnmore. Tayviouth 140 

Lines, written nilh a pincil, standing' by the Fall of 
Fyers, near Loch-ness . , . . .141 



BOOK III. 

FAMILIAR AND EPIBTOLAr.Y. 

To Miss L , with Beattic's Poems as a Keio Year's 

^gi ft. January I, \TS7 . .... 142 

7*0 Miss Cruickshank, a very young lady, written on 

the blank leaf of a book presented to her by the author ib. 
Verses on a young lady .... 143 

to a young lady, with a present of songs . 144 

— prese?ited to a lady whom he had often cele- 
brated. u?ider the name of Chloris . . ib. 

~ presented to an old sictetheart, then -married 145 

To a iioung lady. Miss Jessy L , Dumfries; with 

boo/is iphich the bard presented her . . ih 

To J. ,S**** j-^" 

Epistle to Davie, a brother poet . . . i5Ci 

To the same . . . . . . ,153 

Epistle to J. Lapraik , . . . .155 

To the same .... 153 

To W. S**-^**n . . . . * . ' 160 

Epistle to J. R-^-v-if*-^.^ enclosing some poems, ' . 165 
To Dr. Blacklock . . . , , 167 

7'o Colonel de Peij^ter . . . ' . * . 168 

To Mr. Mitchell', Collector of E.rdse . . ' 169 

Letter to Js T—t Gl-uc-r . . . .170 

To the guidwife of Waitc hope-house, in answer to an 

epistle which she had sent the author . .172 

To J. Ratikin. on his writing to the author that a girl 
was ivith child by him . . . . 174 

Address to cm illegilimate child . . . ib. 

To a 'Tailor, in ansicer to an epistle xchich he had 
sent the author ..... 175 

To Mr. William Tytler . . . . ' . 177 

Epislle to R. Graham Esq. of Fintra . . 178 

To the same ....... ISO 

To the same, en receiving a favour, . . 182 

To a gentleman 7rho?n the author had offended . 1S3 



v\n COJ^TEJVTS. 

Page 
To a gentleman who had sent him a newspaper, and of- 
fered to continue it free of expense . . , 183 
Sketch, to Mrs. iJujilitp, on a J\i''ew Year's day . Ib4 

77ie auld Farmer's J^ew Year JMoming Salutation to 

his auld Alare, J\laggie 185 

The Death and Dying Words of poor Mailie, the .Au- 
thor a only pet Yoire . . , igg 



LIFE 

or 

ROBERT BURKS. 



TiiEKK Is no poet of the present ng-e mor-e 
deservedly popular than IJiirns. Though born 
in ail humble stiition hi life, he raised himself, by 
the mere exertions of his miml, to the lii.g-heht 
pitch of intellectual greatness. I'he originulily 
of his genius, tlie energy of his language, and 
tlie richness of his imagination, merited the gi-a- 
titude as well asthe admiration of his co\intrymcin 
But his highest efforts, in which the tide of hu- 
man feeling seemed to fio%y in deep and cx- 
baustless channels, failed to soften the avarice 
of a mean and selfish aristocracy. Like his 
native and lonely hills, he was subject to every 
blast, and exposed naked and bare to every 
tempest. No i-efreshing showere came to rest 
upon his head, or to pour fertiiity into his bo- 
som. He was an elevated poiiVt, round which 
the storm clung and gathered; a prominent rock 
condemned by nature as it v/ere to endure the 
^uffctings of tlie surge. Yet his rude splendour 
:*emaine(l uninim-cd. Amidst tfee bUtier ^v.^tf-vr; 

Vol, L B 



IJ LIFE OF BURKS. 

cf iiidig'ence and sorrow, of d:'iulg"ery and ne- 
glect, he produced those- beautiful idylliuma 
which will ever exist for the dehg-ht of the 
world; and which will never be read witliout an 
expansion of the understanding" and of the heart. 

Robert Burns was born on the 25th of January, 
1759, in a cottag-e near the banks of the Boon, 
about two miles from Ayr. The chief incidents 
of his life are related, by himself, in a letter to 
Dr. Moore. In this document, and in several 
passag-es of his correspondence, he unfolds the 
vicissitu.des of his fortune and the peculiarities 
of his character witli great streng-th and clear- 
ness. Whoever would do justice to his memory, 
must copy his sentiments and his language. 

" For some montlis past," says he, " 1 have 
bsen rambling over the country; but I am now 
ctinfined with some lingering complaints, origi- 
nating, as 1 take it, in the stomach. To divert 
my spirits a little in this miserable fog o^ ennui., 
I have taken a whim to give you a history of 
myself. My name has made some little noise in 
this country; you have done me the honour to 
interest yourself very warmly in ray behalf; and 
I think a faithful account of what character of a 
man I am, and how I came by that character, 
may perhaps amuse you in an idle moment. I 
will give you an lionest narrative; though I know 
it will be often at my own expense; for I assure 
you, sir, I have, like Solomon, whose charactery 
excepting in the triPiing affair of itvWo.Vi, 1 some- 
times think I resemble; I have, I say, like him, 
tornccj my eyea to behold madness and folly, and, 
like liim, too, fi-oquently sunken liand.s with tlieir 
intoxicating friendship *** A Tier 3-0:1 Iv.ivc 
perused tiittse pages, sho ihl you tiiink tlieni 



LIFE OF B UnXS. ] l 

triflir/g- and impertinent, I only beg- leave to tell 
you, that the poor author wrote them under some 
twitching- qualms of conscience, arising- from 
suspicion that he was doing- what he oug-ht not 
to do: a predicament he has more tliau once 
been in before. 

" I have not the most distant pretensions to 
assume that character which the pye-coated 
g-uardians of escutcheons call a g-entleman. 
When at Edinburg-h, last winter, I g-ot acquaint- 
ed in the Herald's Office, and, looking- through 
that granary of honours, I there found almost 
every name in the kingdom; but for me, 

— My ancient f)iit isnoble blood 

Has crept through scoundrels eversaice thefiood. 

Gules, Purpura, Argent, &c. quite disowned 
me. 

" My father was of the north of Scotland, the 
son of a farmer, who rented lands of the noble 
Keiths of Marischal, and had the honour of shar- 
ing their fate. I do not use the word honour 
with any reference to political principles: loyal 
and disloyal, I take to be merely relative terms, 
in that ancient and formidable court, known in 
this country by the name of Club law, where 
the right is always with the strongest. — But 
those who dare v/elcome ruin, and shake hands 
with infamy, for what they sincerely believe to 
be the cause of their God, or their king, are, as 
Mark Antony says in Shakspeare of Brutus and 
Cassius, honourable men. I mention this circum- 
stance, because it threw my father on the world 
•tit large. 

"After many years' wandei'Jngs and sojourn- 
ing^, he picked up a pretty large quantity of 
observation and expericn."'^, to which I am 



12 LIFE OF B VkJT3 

indebted for most of my little pretensions to wis. 
dom. I have met with few who understood 
men, their manners^ and their ways, equal to liim; 
but stubborn, ung-ainly integrity, and headlong, 
ungovernable irascibility, are disqualifying cir- 
cumstances; consequently, I was born a very 
poor man's son. Yov the first six or seven years 
of my life, my father v/as gardener to a worthy 
gentleman of small estate, in tlic neighbourhood 
of Ayr. Had he continued in tliat station, I must 
have marched off to be one of the little luider- 
lings about a fl\rm house: but it was his dearest 
wish and prayer to have it in his power to keep 
liis children under his own eye till they could 
discern between good and eviU so, with the as- 
sistance of his generous master, my fatlier ven- 
tured on a small firm on his estate. At those 
years I was bv no means a favourite with any 
body. I was a good deal noted for a retentive 
memory, a stubborn sturdy something in my dis- 
position, and an enthusiastic idiot piety. I say 
idiot piet}', because 1 was then but a child. 
Though it cost the schoolmaster some tlirashings, 
I made an excellent English scholar; and by the 
time I was ten or eleven years of age, 1 v/as a 
critic in substantives, verbs, and particles. In 
my infant and boyish days, too, I owed much 
to an old v/oman who resided in the famil}', 
remarkable for her ignorance, credulity and 
superstition. She had, I suppose, the largest 
collection in the country, of tales and songs 
concerning devils, ghosts, furies, brownies, 
witches, warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-can- 
dles, dead-lights, wraitlis, apparitions, cantrips,, 
giants, enchanted towers, dragons, and other 
ti-umpery. This cultivated the latent seeds of 



LIFE OF BURXS. I'J 

poetry; b\it had so strong an effect on my ima- 
g-lnati'on, that to tliis hour, in my nocturr.al ram- 
bles, 1 sometimes keep a sharp look-out in 
suspicious places; and thoug-h nobody can be 
more skeptical t'nan 1 am in such matters, yet it 
often takes an effort of philosophy to shake oil 
these idle terrors. The earliest ccmposition that 
I recollect taking- pleasure in, was the Vision of 
Mirza, and a hymn of Addison's, beginning-, 
'Hov/ are tliy servants blest, O Lord!' I par- 
ticularly remember one half stanza, which was 
music to my boyish ear— 

For tlioughun tlicadiui wl.iils vvc i.-.-ng 

High on ihe iiroken wave. 

I met witli these pieces in Mason's Engli.sh. Col- 
lection, one of my scliool books. The t-.vo first 
books I ever read in private, and v.hich. g-aveme 
more pleasure than a)iy two books I ever read 
since, were tlie Life of ILannibal, and the His- 
tory of Sir William Wallace. Hannibal g-ave my 
young- ideas such a tisrn, that I used to strut in 
raptures up and down after tlie recruiting- dnun 
and bag-pipe, and v.ish myself tail eno'.;g-h to be 
a soldier; while the story of W^allace ])oured a 
Scottish prejudice into my veins, v. liich wiil boil 
along there \i]I the flood-g-ates of life shnt in 
eternal rest. 

" Polemical divisiity about this time was pui- 
ting the coimtry half mad; and !, ambitious of 
shining in convei-sation parties on Sundays, be- 
tween sermons, at funerals, &,c. used, a few 
years afterwards, to puzzle Cal-vinism with so 
mucli heat and indiscretion, that I raised a hue 
and cry of hei-esy against me, which has j^.ot 
ceased to this hour. 

** ^ly vicinitv to Av~ v-'.a'^ of some ad-.antag-e 



14 LIFE OF B URMS. 

to inc. My social disposition, when not checked 
by some modifications of spirited pride, was, 
like our catechism-definition of infinitude, 'with- 
out bounds or limits.' I formed several connex- 
ions with other yoiinkers who possessed superior 
advantag-es, the youngling actors, who were busy 
in the rehearsal of parts in which they were 
shortly to appear on the stag-e of life, where, 
alas ! I was destined to drudg-e behind the 
scenes. It is not commonly at this g'reen ag-e j 

that our g^entry have a just sense oftlie immense j 

distance between them and their rag-g-ed play- j 

fellows. It takes a few dashes into the world, to i 

give tlip young- g'reat man that proper, decent, 
unnoticing disreg-ard for the poor, insig-nificaiit, i 

stupid devils, the mechanics and peasantry around j 

him, who were perhaps born in the same villag-e. ! 

My young" superiors never insulted the clouterly j 

ap])earance of my ploughboy carcass, the two } 

extremes of which were often exposed to all the ' 

inclemencies of all the seasons. They v/ould j 

g-ive me stray volumes of books; among them, ' 

even then, I could pick up some observations; ' 

and one, whose heart I am sure not even the j 

Munny Begum scenes have tainted, helped mo j 

to a little French. Parting with these my young j 

friends and benefactors, as they occasionally | 

v/ent off for the East or West Indies, was often j 

to me a sore affliction; but T was soon called to 
more serious evils. My father's generous mas- 
ter died; the farm proved a ruinous bargain; 
and, to clench the misfortune, we fell into the 
hands of a factor, v/ho sat for the picture I have 
drawn of one in my tale of Twa Dogs. My 
father was advanced in life, when he marricii; 
• '"<»<* tl-.e eldest of seven children; and he, woni 



lAFE OF BUR.YS. 15 

out by early hardships, was unfit for labour. 
My father's spirit was soon irritated, but not 
easily broken. There was a freedom in his lease 
in two years more; and, to weather these two 
years, we retrenched our expenses. We lived 
very poorly; I was a dexterous ploug-hman, for 
my ag-e; and the next eldest to me was a brother 
(Gilbert) who could drive the plough very well, 
and help me to thrash the corn. A novel writer 
might perhaps have viewed these scenes with 
some satisfaction; but so did not I: my indigna- 
tion yet boils at the recollection of the s 1 

factor's insolent, threatening letters, which used 
to set us all in tears. 

**This kind of life — the cheerless gloom of 
a hermit, with the unceasing moil of a galley 
slave, brought me to my sixteenth year; a little 
before which period I first committed the sin 
of rhyme. You know our country custom of 
coupling a man and woman together as part- 
ners in the labours of harvest. In my fifteenth 
autumn my partner was a bewitching creature, 
a year younger than myself My scarcity of 
English denies me the power of doing her jus- 
tice in that language; but you know the Scot- 
tish idiom — she was a honie, sweet, sonsie lass. 
In short, she, altogether unwittingly to herself, 
initiated me in that delicious passion, which, in 
spite of acid disappointment, gin-horse prudence, 
and book-worm philosophy, I hold to be the 
first of human joys, our dearest blessing here 
below ! How she caught the contagion I cannot 
tell: you medical people talk much of infection 
from breathing the same air, the touch, &c.; but 
I never expressly said I loved her. Indeed I 
did not know myself why I liked so much to 



IG LIFE OF' BUR ATS. 

loiter behind with her, when returning- in the 
evening f/om our labours; why the tones of her 
voice made myheart-stnn,^s tlu'lU like an iEolian 
harp; and particularly why my pulse beat such 
a furious ratan when I looked and fing-ered over 
her little hand to pick out tlie cruel nettle-sting-s 
and thistles. Amon^ her other love-inspiring" 
qualities, she sung" sweetly; and it was her fa- 
vourite reel to which I attempted g-iving" an 
embodied vehicle in rhyme. I v^-as not so ])re- 
suraptuous as to imag-ine that I could make 
verses like printed ones, composed by men v.'ho 
had Greek and Latin; but my girl sung- a song", 
which was said to be composed by a small 
country laird's son, on one of his fathers maids, 
with whom he was in lo\e ! and I saw no reason 
why I might not rhyme as well as he; for, ex 
cepting" that he could smear sheep and cast 
peats, his father living in the moorl'iud-, he had 
no more scholarcraft than myself. 

" Thus with me began love and poetry; Vvliich 
at times have been my only, and till within the 
last twelve m.onths, have been my highest en- 
joyment. My father struggled on till he reach 
ed the freedom in his lease, nhen he entered 
on a larger farm about ten miles further in the 
country. The nature of the bargain he made, 
was svich as to throv,' a little ready money in'uj 
his hands at the commencement of his lca<;e, 
otherwise the affair would have been in.pracij 
cable. For fo-U' years we lived comfortably 
here; but a difference commcncmgbetv.een hiT> 
and h.is landlord as to terms, after three years' 
tosslii^r and whijiing' in the vortex of IJilgatioii, 
my father was jvi-st saved from the honors of a 
jaii by a consumption, which, after two jeaT's' 



LIFK OFBURJ^S. 17 

proTTiises, kindly stepped in, and earned him 
a\yay to ' where tlie wicked cease from trou- 
bhng-, and the weary are at rest.'' 

" It is during- the time that we hved on this 
fai-m t])at my httle story is most eventfuh I was, 
at the beg-inning- of this period, perhaps, the 
most ungainly, awkward boy in the parish — no 
solitaire was less acquainted with the ways of the 
world. What I knew of ancient story was 
g-aihered from Salmon's and Guthrie's g-eogra- 
])hical grammars; and the ideas I had formed of 
modern manners, of literature, and criticism, I 
got from the Spectator. These, with Pope's 
Works, some plays of Shakspeare, Tell and 
a)ickson on Agriculture, The Pantheon, Locke's 
Kssay on the Human Understanding, Stack- 
house's History of the Bible, Justice's British 
Gardener's Directory, Bayle's Lectures, Allan 
Ramsay's Works, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine 
of Original Sin, A select collection of English 
Songs, and Hervty's ^leditations, had formed 
the whole of my reading. The collection of 
songs was my vade mecum. I pored over them, 
driving my cart, cr Widking to labour, song by 
song, verse by verse; carefully noting the irue 
tender, or sublime, from aflTectation and fustian. 
I am convinced T ov.e to tliis practice m.uch of 
ray critic-craft, such as it is. 

"In my seventeenth year, to give my man- 
ners a brush, I went to a country dancing school. 
My^ father had an unaccountable antipathy 
against these meetings; and my going was, what 
to this moment 1 repent, in opposition to his 
wiiihcs. My f-uher, ?s I said before, was sub- 
ject to strong passions; from tliat instance of 
disobedience in m; lie took a sort of dislike to 



io r.iF?: OF DUP.j-rs. 

rne, which 1 helic^'e was one cause of the dissi- 
pation which marked nny succeeding years. I 
say dissipation, comparatively with tiic strictness, 
and sobriety, and reg'ularity of Presoytcrian 
country life; for thoug-li the Vv'ill o' Wisp me- 
teois of thoug-litless wliim were almost the sole 
lig-lits of my path, 3et early ing'raineU piety and 
virtue kept me for several years afterwards 
within the line of innocence. The great misfor- 
tune of my life v. as to want an aim. I had felt 
early sorae stirrings of ambition, hut they were 
the bliiid gro])ings of lion.er's Cyclops round 
tile walls of 'lis cave. 1 saw my father's situation 
entailed upon me pel-petual labour. The only 
two openings by which I could enter the temple 
of Fortvme, was the gate of niggardly economy, 
or the path of little chicaning bargain-making. 
The first is so contracted an aperture, I never 
could squeeze myself into it: — the last I always 
hated — th.ere was coiitaii^tination in the very en- 
trance! Thus abandoned of aim or view in life, 
with a strong ajjpetite for sociability, as M'ell 
fromi native hilarity, as from a ]iride of observa 
tion and remark; a constitutional melancholy, oi' 
hypochondriasm, that made m.e fly to solitude? 
add to these incentives to social life, xny r(;pu- 
tation for bookish knowledge, a certair wild 
logical talent, and a strength of thought some 
thing like the rudiments of good sense; and it 
will not seem surprising that I was generally a 
welcome guest where I visited, or any great 
wonder that, always wlicre two or three met 
together there was I among th.em. 

" But far beyond all other impulses of my 
heart was xm penchant a V adorable motlie de genre 
humaln. My heart was con\pletely tinder, ar.d 



lAFZ OP BVRMS. ID 

w?is eternally lig-hted up by some goddess o? 
other; and as in every other warfare in this world 
my fortune was various; sometimes I was receiv- 
ed with favour, and sometimes I was mortified 
with a repulse. At the plough, scythe, or reap- 
hcok, I feared no competitor, and thus I set ab- 
solute Avant at defiance; and as I never cared 
farther for my labours than while I v.as in actual 
exercise, I spent the evenings in the way after 
my own heart. A country lad seldom carries on 
a love adventure witliout an assisting ^onfidant. 
I possessed a curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dex- 
terity, that recommended me as a proper second 
on these occasions; and T dare say, I felt as 
much pleasure in being in the secret of half the 
loves of tlie parish of Tarboiton, as ever did 
statesmen in knowing the intrigues of half the 
courts of Europe. The very goose-feather in 
my b.ayd scem.s to know instinctively the well- 
worn path of my im.agination, the fivourite 
theme of m)' song; and is with difficulty restrained 
from giving you a cou])ie of paragraphs on th.e 
love adventures of my compeers, tlie humble in- 
mates of the fiirm-house and cottage; but the 
grave sons of science, ambition, or avarice, bayj- 
tize these thing-s by tlic; name of Follies. To 
the sons and daughters of labour and poverty, 
they are matters of the most serious nature; to 
them the ardent hope, the stolen interview, the 
tender farewell, are the greatest and most deli- 
cious parts of their enjoyments. 

" Another circumstance in my life, which 
made some alteration in my iTiinfl and manners 
was, that I spent my nineteenth sum.mer on a 
smuggling coast, a good distance from home, at 
a noted school, to learn mcnsiiralioR, sur^'ev'nij. 



'JO LIFE OF BURJ^S. 

duilling-, he. in which I made a pretty good 
progress. But I made a greater progress in the 
knowledge of mankind. The contraband trade 
was at that time very successful, and it some 
times liyppened to me to fall in with those who 
carried, it on. Scenes of swaggering riot and 
roaring dissipation v.xre till this time new to mc; 
but I was no enemy to social life. Here, though 
I learnt to fill my glass, and to mix without fear 
in a drunken squabble, yet I went on with a 
high haijd with my geometry till the sun enter* 
ed Virgo, a month which is always a carnival ift 
my bosom, when a charming //7e//e, v. ho lived 
next door to the school, overset my trigonome- 
try, and set me off at a tangent from the sphere 
of my studies. I, however, struggled on with 
my sines and co-sincs for a few days more; butji 
stepping into the garden one charming noon to 
take the sun's altitude, there I met m.y angel, 

Lilcc Proserpine gatliciin;]; flowers, 
Herself a fairer fio'.ver 

It was in vain to think of doing any more good 
at school. The remaining" week I staid, I did 
nothing but craze the faculties of my soul about 
her, or steal out to meet her; and the two last 
nights of my stay in the country, had sleep been 
a. mortal sin, the image of this modest and inno- 
cent girl liad kept me guiltless. 

"1 returned home very considerably Improv- 
ed. My reading was enlarged with the very 
important addition of Thomson's and Shen- 
stone's works; I had seen human nature in a 
new phasis; and I engaged several of my school 
fellows to keep up a literary correspondence 
with me. Tliis improved me in composition. I 
had met with a collection of letters by the wlu 



LIFE OF BURJ\^S. • 21 

of dueen Anne's reign, and I pored over them 
most devoutly: I kept copies of any of my own 
letters that pleased me; and a comparison be- 
tween them and the compositions of most of my 
correspondents flattered my vanity. I carried 
this whim so far, that tboug-h I had not three 
farthing-s' worth of business in the world, yet 
almost every post brought m.e as many letters as 
if I had ueen a broad plodding son of a day-book 
and leger, 

" My life flowed on much in the same course 
till my twenty-third year. Vive Vamoiir, et vive 
la bagatelle, were my sole principles of action. 
The addition of two more authors to my library 
gave me great pleasure : Sterne .and M'Kenzie 
— Tristram Shandy and the Man of Feeling — 
were my bosom favourites. Poesy was still a 
darling walk for my mind; but it was only in- 
dulged in according to the humour of the hour. 
I had usually half a dozen or more pieces on 
hand; I took up one or other, as it suited the 
momentary tone of the mind, and dismissed the 
work as it bordered on fatigue. My passions, 
when once lighted up, raged like so many devils, 
till they got vent in rhyme; and then the con- 
ning over my verses, like a spell, soothed all 
into quiet! kone of the rhymes of those days 
are in print, excejDt Winter, a dirge, the eldest 
of my printed pieces; the Death of poor Mailie; 
John Barleycorn; the songs, first, second, and 
third.* Song second was the ebullition of that 
passion which ended the fore-mentioned school 
business. 

*' My twenty -third year was to me an impor- 

* See Book II. vol i. p. 162.— Book III. vol. i. p. 284— 
Book V vol. a, p 218— Book V. vol. ii.pp. 214, 241, 198. 



22 LIFE OF BURK&. 

tant era. Partly throug-h whim, and partly that 
I wished to set about doing something' in life, I 
joined a flax dresser in a neig-hbouring- town 
(Irvine) to learn his trade. This was an un- 
lucky affair. My ***; and to finish the whole, 
as we were g'iving" a welcome carousal to the 
new year, the shop took fire, and bu;nt to 
ashes; and I was left, like a true poet, no* ',vorth 
a sixpence. 

" 1 was oblig-ed to give up this scheme; the 
clouds of misfortune were g-athering- thick round 
my father's head, and what was worst of all, he 
was visibly far g-one in a consumption; and, to 
crown my distresses, a belle Jilk, whom I adored, 
and who had pledg-ed her soul to meet me in 
matrimony, jilted me with peculiar circumstan- 
ces of mortification. The finishinj^ evil that 
brought up the rear of this infernal file, was my 
constitutional melancholy, being- increased to 
such a degree, that for three months I was in a 
state of mind scarcely to be envied by the hope- 
less wretches who have got their mittimus — 
' Depart from me, ye accursed!' 

"From this adventure I learned somethingofa 
town life; but the principal thing which gave my 
mind a turn, was a friendship I had formed with a 
young feliow, a very noble character, but a hapless 
son of misfortune. He was the son of a simple 
mechanic; but a great man in the neighbourhood 
taking him under his patronage, gave him a 
genteel education, with a view of bettering his 
siluatjon, in life. The patron dying just as he 
was ready to launch out into the world, the 
poor fellow, in despair, went to sea; where, after 
a variety of good and ill fortune, a little before 
I was acquainted with him, he had been set or 



IJFE OF BURXS an 

shore by an American privateer, osi \\\c wild 
coast of Connaug-ht, stripped of every thing-. I 
cannot quit this poor fellow's story vrithout 
adding" that he is at tliis tisne master of a larg-e 
West-Indiaman belong-ing' to ^tiie Thames. 

" His mind was fraug-ht witii independence, 
mag-nanimity and every manly virtue. .1 loved 
and admired him to a degree of enthusiasm, and 
of course strove to im.itate him. In some mea- 
sure I succeeded: I had pride before, but he 
taug'ht it to flow in proper channels. His Icnov.-- 
ledge of the world was vastly superior to mi)ie, 
and I was all attention to learn. He was tlie 
only man I ever saw who was a greater fool thun 
myself, where woman was the presiding stai-; 
but he spoke of illicit love with the levity of a 
sailor, wh.ich hitherto I had regarded wlt'i licr- 
ror. Here his friendsliip did me mischief; and 
the consequence was, that soon after I resumed 
tlie plough, I wrote T!ie Poet's V/e'come.* lly 
reading only increased, while in tJils tov.n, bV 
two stray volumes of Pamela, and one of Fer- 
dinand Count Fathom, which gave me some 
idea of novels. Rhyme, except some religious 
pieces that are in print, I had given \vp: but 
meeting with Ferguson's Scottish Poi^m.s, I 
strung anew my wildly-sounding lyre with emu- 
lating vigour. ■ ^Vheii my father" died, his all 
v.'ent among the hell-liounds that proul i;i the 
kennel of justice! but we made a shift to cel- 
lect a little money in the family amongst us, 
with which, to keep us together, my brother and 
1 took a neiglibouring farm. My brother vrant- 
ed my hair-brained inuigination, as v.-e!l as mv 

* This ■puce, we bthcDC, iraf: nftcrininla cKtitl fj q,!,], r^^ 
'■o an Jl.ieifitiiii.ir( < hi lit 



24 LIFE OF BURJ\rS. 

social and amorous madness; but in g-ood sense, 
and every sober qualification, he was far my 
superior. 

" I entered on the farm witli a full resolution, 
* Come, go to, I. will be wise !' I read farming 
• books; I calculated crops; I attended markets; 
and, in short, in spite of ' the devil, and the 
world, and the flesh,' I believe I should have 
been a wise man; but the first year, from un- 
fortunateiy buying bad seed, the second, from 
a late harvest, we lost half our crops. This 
overset all my wisdom, and I returned, ' like 
tlie dog to his vomit, and the sow that wiu 
washed, to lier wallov.'ing i;i tlie mire.' 

" I now began to be known in the neighbour- 
hood as a maker of rhymes. The first of my 
])oetic offspring that saw the light was aburlesque 
lamentation on a quarrel betv/een two reverend 
Calvinists, both of them dramatis personss iu 
my Holy Fair. T had a notion myself that 
the piece had some merit; but to prevent tlie 
worst, I gave a copy to a friend who was very 
fond of such tilings, and told him that I could 
not guess who was the author of it, but that 1 
tliought it pretty clever. With a certain de- 
scription of the clergy, as well as laity, it met 
with a roar of applause. Holy Willie's Prayer 
next made its appearance, and alarmed tlie kirk- 
session so much, that they held several meetings 
to look over their spiritual artillery, if haply any 
of il miglit be pointed against profane rhymers. 
Unluckily for me, my wanderings led me, on 
another side, within point blankshot of their 
heaviest metal. This is the unfortunate story 
that gave rise to my printed poem. The Lamejit. 
ThU was a most melancbolv affau". v.hicb ! 



LIFE OF B URJ\''S. ■■2^ 

cannot yet "bear to reflect on, and had nearly 
given me one or two of the principal qualifica- 
tions for a place among- those who have lost the 
chart, and mistaken the reckoning- of ration.alitv.* 
I gave up my part of the farm to my brother? in 
truth it was only nominally mine; and made what 
little preparation was in my power for Jamaica. 
But, before leaving my native country for ever, 
I resolved to publish my poems. I weiglied my 
productions as impartially as was in my pov/cr: 
I thought they had merit; and it was adelicious 
idea, that I should be called a clever fellow, even 
though it should never reach my ears— a po. r 
negro-driver; or perhaps a victim to tliat inhos- 
pitable clime, and gone to the world of spirits ! 
1 can truly say, that pauvre inconnu as 1 then 
was, I had pretty nearly as h.igh an idea of ixy- 
self and of my works, as I have at this m.oment, 
when the public lias decided in their flivour. Jt 
was my opinion, that the mistakes and blunders, 
both in a rational and religious point ofvicv>', of 
which we see thousands daily guilt}^ are owing 
to thel" ignorance of theniselves." To know 
myself, Ij.as been all along my constant study. I 

* Tkii distraction of mind aros^e from the niisr.iy and 
sorrow in which he involocd Jean Mrinour, aftf-ricard,^ Mrs 
Burns. She was a ffreat favourits of her falhsr. The in 
timation of a marrinffc icas the first s^igire'siion he received 
of her real silu::tion. He was in the g'reateU dii^trcss, utid 
fainted away. The marriage did not^apprar to him to innle. 
the matter better. He expressed a ir-ish that the uoreemmt 
bcimcen the:>i should be cancelled This was cur.imiuiir.atcd 
to Burns. He felt the deepest anguish of mind. He offered 
to stay at ho-inr, and prnvidc for his wife and family hy .very 
exertion in ki.-i poic^r. Ecca t/iis was not uppruved or'; and 
huinble as Jean Jlnuovr's .ytotion was, and great Ihuiifh ier 
imprudence had b. en, .^hc was stdL thoughl^ t.y her plirtui 
parent-, to hi,/,- forward f.„ a irore ndenvtigunK eavnriion 

I'ta-: 'hit 'ih-ieh >tiitc iir:s."'ifi(l :l..,:f. 



^5 LIFE OF BUHJiS. 

weig-hed myself alone; T biilanced myself with 
others; I watched every means of iriformation, 
to see how much ground I occupied as a man 
and as a poet; I studied assiduously nature's de- 
sig-n in my formation^-whcre the lig-lits and 
shades in my character were intended. 1 was 
pretty confident my poems would meet witli 
some' applause; but, at the worst, the roar of tlie 
Atlantic would deafen the voice of censure, and 
t'ue novelty of West Indian scenes make me 
forg-et neg-lect. T threw off six hundred copies, 
of which 1 had got subscriptions for about three 
hundred and fifty. Isly vanity was highdy grati- 
fied by the reception I met v/ith from the pviblic; 
and besides, I pocketed, all expenses deducted, 
nearly twenty pounds. This sum came very 
seasonably, as I was thinking of indenting my- 
self, for want of money, to procure my passage. 
As soon as I was master of nine guineas, the 
price of wafting me to the torrid zone, 1 took a 
steerage-passage in the fi.rst ship that was to sail 
from the Clyde; for 

Hungry ruin hail me in Ilie wind. 
"I had been for some days skulking from 
covert to covert, under all the terrors of a jail; 
as some ill-advised people had uncoupled the 
merciless pack of the law at my lieels. * 1 h.ad 
taken the last farewell of my few friends, my 
cliest was on the road to Greenock; I had com- 
posed tlie last song I should ever measure in 
Caledonia. The gloomy night is gathering fast 
— when a letter from Ur. Blacklock to a friend 
of mine, overthrew all my schemes, by opening 

* This ions to ohiioe /iiri to fi-iil srciiritij f.n- the. mniv- 
tninaiice (if kis twin-children, wh>m he was in,/ -pfrnnriut to 
I'^itiinatr, hy a mo.rris.^i', with tk- ir molkcr. 



LIFE OF EURfy'S. 27 

new prospects to my poetic ambition. The doc- 
tor belonged to a set of critics, for wliose ap- 
plause I had not dared to hope. His opinion, 
that I would meet with enconragement in FA'in- 
burg-h, for a second edition, fired me so much, 
that away I posted for that city, without a sing-lc 
acquaimance, or a single lettei- of introduction. 
The baneful star that had so long shed its 
blasting influence in my zenith, for once made a 
revolution to the nadir; and a kind Providence 
placed me under the patronage of one of the 
noblest of men, the earl of Glencairn. Oublie 
THoi, Grand Di.eu, si Jamais je roublic/ 

" I need relate no farther. At Edinbui-gh 1 
was in a new world; I mingled among many 
classes of men, but all of them new to me, and 
1 was all attention to ' catch' the characters and 
'the manners living as they rise.' Whether 1 
have profited, time will show." 

His reception from men of letters, in general, 
was flattering. Dr. Robertson, Dr. Blair, Dr. 
Gregory, Mr" Stewart, Mr. Makenzie, and Mr. 
FrazcrTytler, perceived and acknowledged his 
talents. He was an acceptable guest in the gay- 
est and most elevated circles, and received from 
female beauty and elegance, those attentions 
above all others most gratefid to him. Among 
men of rank and fashion, he was particularly 
distinguished by James, earl of Glencairn, who 
introduced him'to the notice and the convivial 
society of the Caledonian Hunt. But while he 
was Invited into the company of men of virtue 
and taste, he was also seduced, by pressing so- 
licitations, into the fellowship of those whose 
habits, without being extremely g>-oss, were yet 
5oo licentious and dissolute. The fcslivc ir.dvil 



23 LIFE OF B URJVS. 

gences vvhicli he enjoyed among them, gradual* 
ly deprived him of his rehsh for the temperate 
and austere virtues. But whatever influence 
tliis change produced on his conduct and morals, 
his understanding suffered no correspondent 
debasement. He estimated his new friends and 
associates at their proper value; and manifested 
great discrimination in appreciating the charac- 
ter of those who imagined themselves men of 
the first order in the walks of literature and 
fashion. 

*' Tliere are few of the sore evils under the 
«un," he observes, "give me more uneasiness 
und chagrin, than the compai-ison how a man of 
genius, nay, of avowed worth, is received every 
where, with the reception which a mere ordinary 
character, decorated with the trappings and 
futile distinctions of fortune, meets. I imagine 
a man of abihties, his breast glowing witli honest 
pride, conscious that men are born equal, still 
giving 'honour to whom honour is due;' he 
meets at a great man's table a squire something, 
or a sir somebody; he knows the noble land- 
lord, at heart, gives the bard, or whatever he is, 
a share of his good wishes, beyond, perhaps, 
any one at the table; yet liow will it mortify him 
to see a fellow, whose abilities would scarcely 
have made an eight-penny tailor, and whose 
heart is not worth three farthings, meet with 
attention and notice, that are withheld from the 
son of genius and poverty? 

*'■ The noble Glencairn has wounded me to the 
soul here, because I dearly esteem, respect and 
love him. He showed so much attention — en. 
grossing attention — one day, to the only block* 
head at table (the whole company consisted of 



tjFS. OF B VRJ^S. -^ 

ills lordship, dunderpate, and myself,) that I was 
wllhln half a point of throwing down my gage ot 
contemptuous defiance; but he shook my hand, 
and looked so benevolently good at partmg. 
fiod bless him! though I should never see \\\m 
more, 1 shall love him until my dying day! I 
am pleased to think I am so capable of the throes 
of gratitude, as I am m.lserably deficient in some 
other virtues. 

'•' With Dr. Blair I am more at my case. I 
iiever respect him with humble veneration; but 
when he klndlv Interests himself In my welfare, 
cr still more, when he descends froni his pir.na- 
cle, and meets me on equal ground In conversa- 
tion, my heart overflows with what is called 
liking. \\\\cn he neglects me for the mere car- 
cass of greatness, or when Ills eye measures the 
dlficrence of our points of elevation, I say to 
myself, with scarcely any emotion, what do I 
care for him or his pomp either? 

«' It is not easy forming an exact jvidgment of 
any oue; but In'my opinion. Dr. Blair is merely 
an* astonishing proof of what industry andapph- 
catlon can do. Natural parts like his are fre- 
quently to l)e met wltli; his vanity is proverbially 
known among his acquaintance; butiie is justly 
at the head of wliat may be called fine writing; 
and a critic of the first, tlie very first, rank in 
prose: even in poetry^ a bard of nature's makinj^ 
can only take the pas of him. He has a heart, 
not of the very finest water, but far from 'jeing 
an ordinary one. In sliort, he is truly a wortliy 
and most respectaljic character." 

The respect and sjmpathy of Burns dwelt 
with keener emotion and more intense Interest 
on the fate of Ferguson^ than on the intercour.va 



30 r.irr. of nunXs. 

Avliich he helJ with persoiis of distinction. On 
the 6tli of February, 1787, he addressed a letter 
to the bailies of Canongate, Edinburgh, request- 
iiig- permission to erect a monument to his me 
mory. " Gentlemen," said he, "I am sorry to 
be told that tlie remains of Robert Ferg-uson, 
the so justly celebrated poet, a man whose 
talents, for ag-es to con^.e, will do honour to our 
Caled-onian name, lie in your church-yard, among* 
the ignoble dead, unnbticed and unknown. 
Some memoriid to direct tlie steps of the lovers 
of Scottisli song, when they v/ish to shed a tear 
over the narrovv house of the bard who is no 
more, is svu-cly a tribute due to Ferguson's me- 
mory — a tribute I wish to have the lionour of 
paying. I petition you, then, gentlemen, to 
permit nie to lay a simple stone over his revered 
ashes, to i-emain \uui!ienable proi)erty to his 
deathless fume." 

BiU'iiSj in consequence of this application, ob- 
tained leave to g-ratifv his desire.* The insci-ip- 
tion of tlie stone is as follows: 

* Jl r.orrrs/:i)nd.-i!t of Bitrvs^ in alluding to this tram-ac- 
linn, e.Ty/rt'.-'.-t.s- hiii^s.l.f in this nimmi.r: '■'■ :Su you have ob 
taiitcd lihcr'i; from, the ifiain'stratrs to erect a stone oner 
I<cr^rution'g <>rm:t? t do I'vt doubt it; such things havebcen^ 
as Shakspeufu S(nj>-, ' in l/ic oldcu time;'' 

'J'he poi't's fate is Isere in emblem s]iov/n. 
lie ask'd ior bieati, and he received a stone. 
It is, I bclicrr, upon po'ir Biitl(r\t tomb that this is written. 
fjiit hoiD vmv.y pour brothers of Parnassus, as will as poor 
B idler and poo? Ferguson, have asked for bread, and been 
served with the tn,me sauci:! 

" Tlie ina^istrntcs c^ave ycni liborfy, did they ? O gcnerons 
tnaicistrcAes! ***'^**-ccLbruttd oar the three tingdoms for 
ki.s public spirit, gir.rs a poor vvct Ubfrtij to raise a tomb to 
a poor pad's mc/iiory! Alost generous! ****** once vpon 
a time I'nrc 'hot same port tho vtifrhtij sum nfeii^htcen pence 
for a ccpy of his icorLs. Hut. tken it. must be considered 



r.iFE OK uuI:^''s. ?,i 

HKRE LIKS R0B?;RT FERGUSON, I'OET. 

Rom September 5tli, 175] —Died i6ih October, 1774 

No sculpt ur'd niaibie here, nor pompons lay, 
" No storifd urn. i;or aisiuiatcri biii5t;" 

This Pimple stoiio directs paie Scotia"s way 
To liour hor sorrows o'er her Poofs i\\\<i. 

On the olhcr side of the stone is as follows: 
" By special grant of the nia!ia;r<-is to Robert Bnriis, whr, 
erected this stone, this liiiria! place is to reiiiain for ever ^ncr^rl 
to the memory of JRobert Ferguson." 

Shortly after ps'yiiig- this mark of respect to 
the ashes of a kindred genii:s, he acquired by 
the new editicn ( f his poems, a stsm of moiny 
mere than sufficient for liis present exigencies. 
He therefore determined to g'lulify a desire lie 
had long- entertained, of visiting- seme of tlie 
most iriteresting" districts of his native conntry. 
For this pinpose, he left Etlinlnngh on tlie sixtii 
of i>!ay,- and in the course of his jonrncy was 
hos])itably r< ceived at the l.ouses of .seveial 
g-entlemen of Vvorth and leaining-. Afttr pro- 
ceeding lip tlie Tweed, through the counties 
of Roxbvngl:! aiul Selkiik; penetrating' into Krg- 
lau.^, as far as Newcastle; and crossing tiie islatrvl 
to Carli.sle, he returned through Anan and iKim- 
.fries to Ayrshire, after an absence of six months. 

It will easil}^ be conceived wnth what pleasitre 
and pride he was received by his m.other, his 
brothers and sisters. He had left th*. m poor, 
and comparatively friendless; he returned to 
them high in public estimation and easy in iiis 
circumstances. He returned lo them, unchanged 

that the poet tons af thin iin-c (ilnvlutflii strcing, avd be- 
sought his aiil. with all the ramrslncss of hiaigcr; and over 
and aoooc he rccrive'l ^ +»**■* '■**^ worth at least one-lhird of 
thr.itidae, in nrjinno-r, Init irhirk, Ihilicve Ikcpocl iiftirtcards 
very v.n'^rat'fuUij exiniuifcd." 



;?2 LIFE OF HURT'S. 

in his ardent affections, and ready to sliare wiih' 
them, to the uttermost farthing-, the pittance 
that fortune had bestowed. 

Having' remained with them a few days, he 
proceeded ag-ain to Edinburg-h, and immediately 
set out on a tour to the hig-lilands: from this 
journey he returned to his relations in his na- 
tive country> renewing" his friendships ?snd ex- 
tending- his acquaintance. 

In Aug-ust, he made another visit to Edin- 
burg-h, whence he travelled in company with 
Mr. Adair through T/uilithg'ow, Carron, Stirling-, 
the vale of Devon, and Harvieston. In a visit 
to Mrs. Bruce of Clackmanan, a lady above 
ninety, the lineal descendant cf that race whick 
g-ave the Scottish throne its brig-htest ornament, 
his feeling-s were powerfully interested. Thoug-h 
almost deprived of speech by a paralytic affec- 
tion, she preserved her hospitality and urbanity. 
She was in possession of the helmet and two- 
handed sv/ord of lier great ancestor, v/ith which 
she conferred on her two visiters the honour of 
knig-hthood, remarking-, that she had a better 
rig-ht to confer tliat title than som.e people. 

At Dunfermline they visited the ruiiied abbey, 
and the abbey-church, now consecrated to Pres- 
byterian worship. Here Mr. Adair mounted the 
cutty-stool, or stool of repentance, assuming- the 
character of a penitent for fornication; while 
Biu-ns, from tlie pulpit, addressed to him a ludi- 
crous reproof and exhortation, parodied from 
that which had been delivered to himself \t\ 
Ayrshire, where he had once been one of seven 
who mounted the seal of shame tog-ether. 

In the church-yard two broad fla^-stones 
marked the grave of Robert Bruce, for \Ahosc 



LIFE OF B Un.VS. 33 

meninry Iiinns luul a more than a common vene- 
ration. He knelt and kissed the stone with 
sacred fervour, and heartily (sims ut nios erat) 
execiated tl^.e worse th;in Gothic neg'lect of the 
first of Scottish heroes. He afterwards returned, 
with Mr. Adair, to Ediuburg-li by Kiiiross, (on 
the shore of Locldevcn) and Queen's ferry. 

Tiiese journeys, however, did not satisfy the 
curiosity of Burns. About the beg-inning- of 
September, he 3g-ain set out fipm the metropo- 
lis on a more extended tour to the hig-lilaiids, in 
company with Mr. Nicol, assistant teacher in 
tlie liig-h school. After passing- througli the 
heart of that mouritainous division of the!)- native 
country, tlioy stretclied northwards about ten 
miles beyond Inverness. There they bent their 
coui-se easlv»-aid, across the island, and returned 
by the shore of tlie Gcrmar. sea, to Edinburgii. 
In the covn-se of tliis joun^.ey, tliey visited a 
number of remarkable scenes; and the imagina- 
tion of Burns was constantly excited by tlie wild 
and sublime scenery tin-ough which lie passed. 

Having settled with his publisher, in February, 
1788, he found himself master of nearly five 
hundred pounds, after discharging all Jiis ex- 
penses. I'o his brother Gilbert, who had taken 
upon him the support of their aged mother, 
ans' was struggling with many difficulties in the 
1 "m of Mossgiel, he immediately advanced two 
hundred pounds. With th.e remainder lie re- 
solved on settling himself for life in the occupa- 
tion of agriculture, and took the farm of Ellisland, 
on the banks of tJie Nith, six miles above Dum« 
fries, on which h.e entered at Whitsunday. 

When he had in this manner arranged his 
plans for futurity, Jils generous heart turned 



H LFFE OF FiURjYS. 

to the object of his aUacliment; and listening to 
i;0 considerations buttliose of lionour and afl'ec- 
tion, he led herto the altar, and joined with her 
in a public declaration of marriag'c. His notice 
of this event to jMrs. Diinlop, is truly honourable 
to his feeling's. ""\^'henJean found herself," 
says he, "a& women wish to be who love tlieir 
loi-ds," as 1 loved her nearly to distraction, we 
took steps for a private marriag"e. Her parents 
g-ot the hint; and not only forbade me her com- 
pany and the house,, but en my mmoured West 
Indian voyag-e g'ot a warrant to put ine in jail 
till 1 should hnd security in my about-to-be pa- 
ternal relation. You know my lucky reverse of 
fortune. On my eclatant return to Mauchline, 
I v.as made very welcome to visit my girl. The 
usual consequences began to betray her; and ag 
I was at that time laid up a cripple in Edinburgh, 
she was turned — litsrally turned out of doors,- 
and I wrote to a friend to shelter her till my 
return, when our marriage was declared. Hkii 

IIAli'l.XESS OR JIISKUT AVAS IN WY HANI'S; AND 
WliO COULD TIlllLE WITH SUCH A DEPOSITK!"' 

He now^ engaged in rebuilding the dwelling 
house on his farm, which, in the state he found 
it, was inadequate to the accommodation of hia 
family. On this occasion he resumed at times 
the occupation of a labourer, and found neither 
his strength nor his skill impaired. Pleased with 
s-ui-veying the grounds he was about to cultivate, 
and with rearing a habitation that might give 
sh.elter to his wife and children, and, as he fondly 
liopcd, to his own gray hair=, sentiments of in. 
dependence buoyed up his mind; pictm-es of 
domestic content and peace rose on his imagina- 
tion; and a few days passed away, tlie most trviu- 



L'iri: OF ju^nxs. 25 

qMil, and ]:;e'ihaps ti.e I'.appiost he had exer 
expericrccd. 

His industry, iiowever, was fieqiienlly hiter- 
ruptcd l)y visitiiTg his faniily in Ayrshii-c; and as 
tiie distance was too ijivat Snr a sing-'e day''s 
journey, he g'cneraily spent a ni^ht at an inn or. 
the road. (Jn sr.ch occasicns he sometimes fell 
into company, and v/as drawn into iiTeg-ular and 
intemperate habi'is. f[is appointm.ent in the 
excise, which v.as conipleted in. autumn 1789, 
lilcewii-:e obsli-iictcd Itis atri'icultinr.l piirsui'ts. 
-He was unable to reconcile the business of the 
t"vvo occupations, ilis fui-m Uiis in a g'reat ir.easure 
abandoned to h.is sci'v::nts, v^hile lie was cng-ag-ed 
in performing- his official duties. Tie might be 
seen, now and then, in the spring", directing" his 
ploug"h, a labour in ^^il•.^;]l he exctlkds or with 
-a A\'hite sheet, containiiv:;" li;s seed-corn, slung 
across his shoulders, striding- with measured 
steps along- 'his turr.ed-up furrows, and scattcT. 
Ing- the grain in th.e earth. But his farm no 
Jonger occupied the principal p-avt of his thoug-hts. 
it was not at ILHihhuKl th.al he wa> now in gene- 
ral to be fiund. ^.lountcd on liorseback, this 
high-minded poet was pursuing- tlie defaulters 
of the revenue, among the hills and vales of 
Nithsdule, his roving t}-e wandering- over the 
charnns of nature, and mutterir.-Tf his wayward 
fancies as he moved along-. 

Besides his duties in tlie ex';ise, otner circunt- 
slanccs interfered willj h.is attention to his farm. 
lie eng-aged in the forniation and manag-ement 
of a society for purchasing and circulating books 
among- the farmers of his neighbourhood; and 
occasionally occupied liimself in composing 
soPtj^s for ti'c musical v.oik of Mr. Juhnsois, 



:■:.) L IFF. O F n URJK'S. 

Vi\e\\ in i\\Q course of p\iblir,atior.. These en- 
gag-ements, thoug-h useful and honourable, ne- 
cessarily contributed to the abstraction of his 
thoug-hts, and the neg-lect of his rural affairs. 

The consequences may easily be iinag-ined. 
Notwithstanding" the prudence and good raa- 
nag-ement of Mrs. Burns, he found it necessary, 
after the expiration of three years and a half, to 
relinquish his lease. His employment in the 
excise orig-inally produced fifty pounds per 
annum. He was now appointed to a new dis- 
trict, the emoluments of which rose to about 
seventy. Hoping- to support him:ielf and his 
fuTnily on this himible income till promotio!^ 
shovdd reacli him, he removed to a small house 
in !)umfi-ies about the end of the year 1791. 

His g-reat celebrity made him an object of 
interest and curiosity to strang-ers, and few per- 
sons passed through Dumfries Vv'iUiout an at- 
tempt to see him, and to enjoy the pleasure of 
liis conversation. As he could not receive them 
conveniently at home, these interviews passed 
ai the inn.s or' the town, and ofLen terminated in 
convivial excesses. Among- the inliabitants also, 
tJKU-e were never wajiting- persous to lead o-r 
acroinpany him to tlie tavci-n; to applaud the 
sallies ol" lii-; wit; and to v.-itness at once t!ie 
sti-eng-th and tli? deg-radation of his g-enius. 

In the four years that he lived in Dmnfries, 
!)e ])r(>d!iee(l many of his beautiful lyrics; and 
checrrnlly consented to g-ive his aid to a collec- 
tion oFoi-igiiKil ScoUlsh itirs and verses, pi-ojected 
by fieoi'ge 'F'bouiS'-yn of F.'.!iiiburg-h. Dui'ing- 
this ti'Tic he luaac S'.'sfi'al excursions iiito the 
iieighl)ouring- counlrw In f);ie of t!>ese he ])assed 
th.-o.tg'h (.Iciid'.uuvyn-.'S, a !)eau'.if^:l situation on 



IJFE OF BUEJK-'S. Ti 

the banks of the Dee, in company with Mr. 
Syme, and reached Kenmore, where they re- 
inauied three days at the seat of Mr. Gordon. 
On leaving- Kenmore for Gatehouse, they took 
the moor-road, where every thing presented a 
wild and desolate aspect. Tlie sky appeared 
to sympathize with the dreariness of the soil. It 
became lowering- and dark. Gleams of slieeted 
lightning- were followed by the awful rolling of 
thunder. Burns spoke not a word, but seemed 
wrapped in meditation. In a Utile while the rain 
began to fall; and for three hours it poured in 
torrents on the waste. In the midst of this storm, 
though drenched as it were by tlse embattled 
elements, he rem.ained absorbed in thought, 
wholly inattentive to t])e descending floods. 
He was equally regardless of every thing aroiuid 
him during Ins ride liome from St. Mary's isle; 
and his companion did not venture to disturb 
him. Next day he produced the celebrated 
martial hymn, entitled Robeit Ri-uce's Address 
to his Army, a hymn unparalleled in the annals 
of modern poetry, and equal to the happiest 
efforts of the greatest geniuses of antiquity. 

Burns had entertained hopes of promotion in 
the excise; but circumstances occurred whicli 
prevented their fulfilment. The events of the 
French revolution, winch interested the feeling-s 
of every thinking mind, v/ere commented on by 
Burns in a manner very difterent from wl^at might 
have been expected from an ofhcer under go- 
vernment. Information of his sentiments were 
given to the board of excise; an inquiry was in- 
stituted into his conduct; and, after being rejjri- 
manded, he was suflered to retain his situation. 

This cij-cumstance made a deep impression 



3g LIFE OP nUIijVS. 

on his mind. Fame exagg-erated his misfortune, 
and represented him as actually dismissed from 
liis office; and this report induced g-entlemen 
of much respectability to propose a subscription 
in his favour. But he refused the offer with 
great elevation of sentiment, and nobly defended 
himself ag-ainst the imputation of having- made 
submission for the sake of his office, unworthy 
of his character. 

"The partiality of my countrymen,''' he ob- 
serves, " has bro\ig-ht me forward as a man of- 
genius, and has g-iven me a character to support. 
In the poet I have avov/ed manly and indepen- 
dent sentiments, which I hope have been found 
in the man. Reasons of no less weight than the 
support of a wife and children, have pointed my 
present occupation as the only eligible line of 
life w^ithin my reach. Still my honest fame is 
my dearest concern, and a thousand times have 
I trembled at the idea of the degrading epithets 
that malice or misrepresentation may affix to my 
name. Often, in blasting anticipation, have I 
listened to some future hackney scribbler, v/ith 
the heavy malice of savage stupidity, exultingly 
asserting, that Burns, notwithstanding the fan- 
faronade of independence to be found in hig 
wcrks, and after being held up to pviblic view, 
and to public estimation, as a man of some 
genius, yet, quite destitute of resources within 
himself to support his borrowed dignity, dwin- 
dled into a paltry exciseman, and slunk out the 
rest of his insignificant existence in the meanest 
of pursuits and among the lowest of mankind. 

"In your illustrious hands, sir, permit me to 
lodge my strong disavowal and defiance of such 
slanderous falselioods. Buiixs was a pooh majt 



LIFE CF BURjYS. 39 

FROM HIS BIRTH, AND A]!f EXCISEMAN BY NECES- 

BTTT; but 1 WILL SAT it! THE STERLIXG OF 

HIS HONEST WORTH, POVEUTT COULD NOT DE- 
BASE, AND HIS INDEPENDENT BRITISH SPIRIT, 
OPPRESSION MIGHT BEND, BUT COULD NOT SUB- 
DUE." 

It was one of the last acts of his hfe to copy this 
heart-rending-letter into abook which he kept for 
the purpose of recording- such circumstances aa 
he thoug-ht worthy of preservation. Upwards of 
a year before his death there was an evident de- 
cline in his personal appearance; and though his 
appetite continued unimpaired, he was liimself 
sensible that his constitution was sinking". From 
October, 1795, to the January following*, an ac- 
cidental complaint confined him to the house. A 
few days after he beg-an to g-o abroad, \\e dined at 
a tavern, and returned home about three o'clock 
in a very cold morning-, benumbed and intoxicat- 
ed. This was followed by an attack of rheuma- 
tism, which confined him about a week. His 
appetite beg-an to fail, his hand shook, and his 
voice faltered on any exertion or emotion, i.u 
pulse became weaker and more rapid, and pai>, 
in the larg-er joints, and in the hands and feet, dr 
prived him of sleep. In the month of June, 1796, 
he removed to Brow in Annandale,aboutten miles 
from Dumfries, to try the effects of sea-batliing-. 
Here he was invited to dinner by a lady in the 
neig-hbourhood; and as he was unable to walk, 
she sent her carriag'e for him to the cottag-e 
where he lodg-ed. As he entered her apartment 
the stamp of death seemed imprinted on his 
features. He appeared already touching- the 
britik of rternity. His first salutation was, 
'*\VeU, maGam, have you any commands for 



40 LIFE OF B URy^. 

the other world?" He ate little, and complained 
of having- entirely lost the tone of his stomach. 
He spoke of his death without any of the osten- 
tation of philosophy, but with firmness and 
feeling-, as an event likely to happen very soon. 
His anxiety for his family hung- heavy upon 
him; and when he alluded to their approaching" 
desolation, his heart was touched with pure and 
unming-led soiTOW. 

At first he imag-ined that bathing- in the sea 
had been of benefit to him; the pains in his limbs 
were relieved; but this was immediately followed 
by a new attack of fever. When broug-ht back 
to his oivn house in Dumfries, on the 18th of 
July, he Avas no long-er able to stand upright. 
A tremor pervaded i^is frame: his tong-ue was 
parched, and his mind fell into a delirium, when 
not roused by conversation. On the second 
and third day the fever increased, and his 
strength diminished. On the fourth, the suffer- 
ing's of this great, but ill-fated genius, were ter- 
minated; and a life was closed, which had been 
embittered by suffering, and insulted by un- 
merited calumny. 

Wben his death was known, it excited a deep 
and mournful sensation. It was felt as a loss which 
no earthly power could replace; as the extinc- 
tion of a prodigy v/hosc appearance was rare 
and uncertain. He was lamented, not merely 
like a common individual, by friends and neigh- 
bours, but by a whole countjy, whose pleasures 
he had an exclusive capacity to augment. 

He left a widow and four sons. The cere- 
monial of his interment was accompanied with 
military hono-,n-s, not only by the corps of Dum- 
frici; v'i!u''>'^pevi. of wbi.ch he wip a member, 



LIFE OF BURJV3. 41 

brit by the Fencible infantry, mid a reg-iment of 
Cinque Port cavalry tlien quartered in Dumfries. 
On the same day, by a coincidence sing-tdarly 
touching", Mrs. Burns was dehvered of a son, 
who did not long" survive liis father. 

Burns was nearly five feel ten inches in height, 
a.ld of a form tltat indicated ag-iiity as well as 
strength. His well raised forehead, shaded with 
black curling- hair, expressed uncommon capa- 
city. His eyes were larg-e, dark, full of ardour 
and animation. His face was well formed, and 
his countenance striking-ly interesting-. 

Of his general behavio-ar every one spoke in 
the highest terms. It usually bespoke a mind 
conscious of su])erior talents, not however un- 
mixed with the affections which beget familiarity 
and afifabihty. His conversation was extremely 
fascinating-; rich in wit, liumour, whim, and oc- 
casionally in serious and opposite reflection. No 
man had a quicker appreiiension of right and 
wrong, or a stronger sense of what was ridicu- 
lous and mean. Neither chicanery nor sordid- 
ness ever appeared in his conduct. Even in the 
midst of distress, while his feeling heart sunk 
under the secret consciousness of indigence, 
and the apprehensions of absolute want, he bore 
himself loftily to the world. He died in the 
utmost penury, but not in debt; and left behind 
him a name which will be remen^bered as long 
as departed worth and goodness are esteemed 
among men. 

After contemplat'ng the melancholy story of 
his life, it is impossible not to heave a sigh at 
the asperity of his fortune, while we reprobate 
the conduct of those w-ho drew him from mc 

Vol. 1. D 



«<: LIFE GF nUKJfS. 

simplicity of Iiumble life, and left him a prey to 
r^nxiety and want, to sorrow and despair. 

Of his poems which liave been so often print- 
ed and so eag'erly read, it is unnecessary to enter 
into a critical examination. All readers of taste 
and sensibility assign him the first place among 
the poets of his country; and acknowledg-e the 
presence of that "light from heaven," which 
consecrates and eternizes every monument of 
genius. 



GLOSSARY. 



The ch and gh have always the guttural sound. The 
Boiuid of the English diplithong oo, is commonly spelled ou. 
The French u, a sound wliich often occurs in the Scottish 
language, is marked oo, or ni. The a in genuine Scottish 
words, except when forming a diplithong, or followed by an c 
mute after a single consonant, sounds generally like the broad 
English a in wall. The Scottish diphthongs ae always, and 
ea very often, sound like the French e masculine. The Scot 
tish diphthong f?/, sounds like the Latin ei. 

A. Aim., iron. 

Jlitk, an oath. 

Jilts, oats. 

Aiver, an old horse 

jiizle, a. hot cinder. 

^lake, alas ! 

Alane.1 alone., solitary, single., 

without company, 
^kjcart, awkward, inelegant, 

untaxLght. 
Jlirnast, almost, nearly. 
Jlmang, among,mingled with 
An' , and, if. 
Alice, once, one time. 
Ane, one, and. 
Anent, over against, concern 

ing. 
Anither, another, one more,. 
Ase, ashes, the remains of 

hiirat coals. 
Asklent, asquint, aslant. 
Asteer, abroad, stirring. 
Athart, athwart, wrong. 
Aught, possession; as, in ' 

my aught, zn all my posscM- 

sion. 
Auldfarren, or auld farrent, 

sagacious, cunning, pru- 
dent 



A\ all, every one, the whole. 

Aback, away, aloof. 

Abeigh, at a shy distance. 

Aboon, aboon, above, up, in 
the regions of heaven. 

Abread, abroad, in sight, at 
large. 

Abread, in breadth. 

Ae, one. 

M. off. 

Aff-hand, extempore, imme- 
diately. 

Aff-loof, unpremeditated. 

Afore, before, sooner than. 

Aft, oft. 

Aftcn, often, frequently, 
many times, 

Agley, off the right line, ob- 
lique, wrong. 

Siblins, perhaps. 

^ik, the oak. 

Qir, early, soon. 

dirl-penny, earnest-money, a 
piece of money for confirm- 
ing a bargain. 

iirt, quarter of the heavens; 
to direct. 



t4 



CiLOSSiARY 



^uld lansr .lyiie, ohlcn tinir, 

days of other years, 
fluid, old., aiicicrd, advanced 

in yrars. 
.Auntie, an ninit. 
j3va.\ at all, of all, of m.-y. 
Jluia\ awini, absent. 
Jiwfn\ awful, terrible. 
Mwn, Ike beard of barlnj, 

oats, ^-c. 
Awnie, bearded- 
Ayo7it, beyond, at a distmcc, 

out (if ike reach of 

B. 

Ba\ hall. 

Backets, ashboard.<; a square 
loooden v ex s el for carryinn- 
coals to the fire; a kind of 
box for hr.ldins' salt. 

Backiins coinin\ earning 
back, rrturnif^. 

Bad, did bid. 

Baide, endured, did stay. 

Bailie, a magistrate in Scot- 
land, answering to an 
alderman in England. 

Baggie, dimin. of hag, a fa- 
miliar term used to sig- 
nify the hell 71. 

Bainie, having large Soncs, 
stoiU. 

Bairn, a chill. 

Bairntime, a family of chil- 
dren, a brood. 

Baith, both, likcwisr.. 

Bake, a small cake o-r biscuit. 

Ban, to swear, to make an 
irreverent exclamation; re- 
proach, censure. 

Bane, hone. 

Bang, to beat, to strive, to 
excel. 

Bardie, dimin. of hard 

Barefit, barefooted, without 
shoes or stockings. 

Barmie, of, or like barm. 

BatrJi. a crew, a gang 



Balls, bolts, small worms in 
the entrails of horse.".. 

Baudrons, a cat. 

Bauld, bold, intrepid. 

Baick, a sfrip of land left un 
jilongked, two or three feet 
in width; a ridge, a bank. 

Baic.-:'vt, having a white 
strip doicn the face. 

Be, to let be, to give over., to 
cense. 

Bear, barley. 

Beastir, dimin. of beast. 

Beet, to add fuel to fire. 

Dcld, bald, without hair on 
the head. 

Belyve, hy-andhy. 

Ben, into the spence or par-- 
lour, 

Benmost, innermost. 

Benlfimond, a noted mountain 
in Dumbartonshire. 

Be than kit, grace or short 
prayer after the time or act 
of eating. 

Bevk, a hook. 

Bicker, a kind of wooden 
dish, a short race. 

Bie, or Bield, shelter. 

Bicn, wealthy, plentiful. 

Big, to build. 

Biggin, building, a house. 

Bin-frit, built. 

Bill, a bull. 

Biliie, a brother, a young fe.- 
low. 

Cing, a heap of grain, pota- 
toes, &c. 

Birk, birch. 

Birken-shaw, Birchen-woou 
shaic, a small icood. 

Birkie, a clever fellow. 

Birring, the noise of par- 
tridges, i^c. when theg 
spring. 

Bit, crisis, nick of time 

Bizz, a bustle; to hu7,t 

Blae livid 



——fl 




i 
1 

GLOSSARY. 45 




Blastic, a shrivelled dwarf, a 


Botch, blotch, an angry 




term of contempt. 


tumour. 




Blastit, blasted. 


Bouk, body, a person. 




Blate, bashful, sheepish. 


Bousing, drinking, quaffing. 




Blather, bladder. 


Bow-kail, cabbage. 




Blaad, a fiat piece of any 


Bow-hough"d, applied to the 




thinfr; to slap. 


lower part of (he thighs, 




Blaw, to blow, to boast. 


when crooked or bent out 




Blerrit, bleared, sore icith 


wards. 




rheum. 


Brackens, fern. 




Bltert and blin, bleared and 


Brae, a declivity, aprccipice 




blind. 


the slope of a hill. 




Bleezino-, blazing, flaminn: 


Bruid, broad, plain. 




Blellum, idle, talking fi How. 


Br agin" t, reeled forward. 




Blether, to talk idly; non- 


Braik, a kind of harroio, an 




sense. 


instrument used in hus- 




Blctk'rin, talking idly 


bandry. 




Blink.a little white, a smtling 


Bruinge, to run rashly for 




look; to look Idndly, to shine 


ward. 




lyfits. 


Brak, broke, made insolvent 




Blinker, a term of contempt. 


Branks, a kind of wooaen 




BUnkin, smirking, eglinrr. 


curb for horses. 




Blithe, or Bhjthc, cheerful. 


Briah, a sudden illness 





Blue-gown, one of those beg- 


Brats, coarse clothes, rags 




gars who get a.nnually, on 


.U. 




the king's birth-day, a blue 


Brattle, a short race, hurry 




cloak or gown,with a badge. 


fary. 




Bluiil, blood. 


Br aw, fine, handsome. 




Blinitie, snivelling. 


Brawlyt, or Rrawlie very 




Blype, a shred, a large piece. 


well, finely, heaitily. 




Buck, to vomit, to gush in- 


Braxic, a mar bid sheep. 




tcrvtittently. 


Breastie, dimin. nf breast. 




Backed, gushed, vomited. 


Breastit, did spring vp of 




Bodle, an old copper coin, of 


forward. 




the value of pennies Scots, 


Breckan,fcrn. 




or one-third of an English 


Breef, an invulnerable or ir- 




penny. 


rcsi.'itible spdl. 




Bogles, spirits, hobgoblins. 


Brecks, breeches. 




Borne, or bony, handso7nc, 


Brent, smooth. 




beautiful. 


Brewin, brewing. 




Bannock, a kind of thick cake 


Brie, juice, liquid. 




of bread, a small jannack, 


Brig, a bridge. 




or loaf made of oat-meal. 


Brnnstane, brimstone. 




Board, a board. 


Brisket,the breast, the bosom 




Ucortrce, the shrub elder; 


Briihcr, a brother 




planted much of old in 


Brock, a badger. 




hedges of barn-yards, S,-c. 


Brogue, a hum, a trick. 




Boost, behooved, must needs. 


Broo, broth, liquid, water. 




Bore, a hole in the wall. 


Brosc, a kind of pcilagi 



18 



GLOSS.IRY. 



made hy pouring' boiling- 
water or broth on oat -meal, 
which is stiri'ed ichile the 
water is poured; — a race 
at country weddings, who 
ahall first reach the bridc- 
gvooin's house on return- 
ing from church, so called, 
perhaps, from brose being 
allotted to the victor. 
Broionie, a spirit, supposed, 
till lately, to haunt old 
houses, particularly those 
attached to farms, and 
sometimes to do the dnidge- 
ry of the servants during 
the itight. 

Brugh, a burgh. 

Bruilzie,abroil,aconibvstimi. 

Brunt, did burn, burnt. 

Brust, to burst, burst. 

Buchan-bullers, iheboilinz of 
the sea amomr the rocks on 
the coast of Buchan. 

Bucksin, an inhnbitant of 
Virginia. 

Bughi, a pen. 

Bughtin-tinie, the time of col- 
lecting the sheep in thcpcnj 
to be milked. 

Buirdly, stout wade, broad 
made. 

Bum-clock, a humming beetle 
that flies in the summer 
evenings. 

Bumming, humming as bees. 

Eummle, to blunder; a dolt, 
a stupid person. 

Bummler, a blunderer. 

Bunker, a windovi-scat. 

Bardies, dimin. of birds. 

Bure, did bear. 

Burn, water, a rivulet. 

Burnie, dimin. of burn. 

Buskie, bushy. 

Buskit, dressed finely, deco- 
rated. 

Busks, dresses. 

Basis, a bustle. U> lusUe. 



Buss, buss, shelter. 
But, Bot, with, without. 
Exit an'' Ben, the country 

kitchen and parlour. 
By himsel, lunatic, distract' 

ed. 
Byke, a bee-hive, a crowd. 
Byre, a cow-house. 



Ca' , to call, to n ame, to drii^e 
Ca'l, or Ca'd, called, driven, 

calved, 
Cadsrcr, a. carrier. 
Cadis, a Caddie, a jtcrson, a 

yountr ftlloiD. 
a,ff, chaff. 
Ca.ird, a linker. 
Cairn, a loose heap of stones. 
Cnlf-wardy a small enclosnr 

for calves. 
Cullan, a boy. 
Caller, fresh, sound, refresh' 

ing. 
Cavie,or Cannie, gentle, mild, 

dexterous. 
Cannilie,dextero'usly, gently 
Cantie, or Canty, cheerful, 

merry. 
Cantraip, a ehurm, a spell. 
Caprin, capering, skipping 

merrily. 
Cap-st.ane, cope-stone, key 

stone. 
Careerin, cheerfully. 
Carl, an old man. 
Carlhcmp, the largest stalk 

of hemp, firmness of mind. 
Carlin, a stout old jconuin. 
Cartes, cards. 
Caudron, a caldron. 
Cauk and keel, chalk and red 

clay. 
Cauld, cold. 

Caup, a wooden drinking ves- 
sel. 
Cavie, a coop or pen for pntl- 
try. 



•7,0isj::y. 



47 



X^awd. drivf.n. 

Ctsscs, taxes. 

ClianLcr, a P'H-I of a hnirpipc. 

diap, a persun, a j'cUuio, a 

bloic. 
dianp, a sfrifkc, a blow. 
■C/uekili chctked. 
Cheep, a chirp; to cAirp. 
Chiri.or Ckfel.n yonvgfil'ni.i. 
Cklmla, or Chirnlie, a Jirc- 

jfraLr, a fireplace. 
■Chimla-lug, the fire-side. 
Ckiiterinir, shivering, trcisi- 

blin.. "' 
Ckodcin, cholutig: 
C/ioic, to chno; chetk lor 

•cliow, side by side. 
■Vhnfiir^ fat-faced. 
Ctiir/ian, a siiiail village 

about a chinch^ a himlct. 
Cltiise., or dries, cluV/its. 
Clai'h, cloth. 
Chnthiiiff^ clvlhiioj: 
Claivcr.'i, i]onse.nsc,}iot speak. 

ing sense, 
dap, clapper of a mill. 
Clorcif, wrote. 
'Clash, an idle tale, the story 

of the day. 
Clatter, to tdl little idle 

stories; an idle stvry. 
dann-ht, snatched at, laid 

'fiold of. 
Cliiut, to clea-ii,ti} serapr: n 

heap, a great quantity, 

abundance. 
Clauted, scraped. 
Clavcr, clouer. 
Clavcrs, idle stories. 
Claw, to scratrh. 
Claic\l, scratched. 
Claymore, a sword, a weapon 

used either in cutting or 

thrusting. 
■CXe.fd, to clothe, 
Cletds, clothes. 
Ctcek, to lay hold of after the 

manner vf a hook, 'o seize 

«t eli events 



C'lnkit, hariy)g caanfit. 
Chi! kin, jerking, clinking. 
('liiikunibell,iie who rings ikt 

ehurch-beil. 
Clips, sheers. 
Ctishri:aclava\ idle cenversa 

tmn. 
Cl.i;ck, to hatch; a bccUs. 
i L.ekin, 1iitt:c1dvg. 
Ckiut, the hoof ij' a coto, sheep, 

Clootie, an. old name for the 

DerU. 
Clour, a kvv:p, or swelling^ 

lift' r a I. low. 
Clout, lo beat., to strike; a 

blow, a evjf. 
Cluds, clouds. 

Ci-iivk, to guggle i-n the man- 
ner (f a bottle when it is 

cwptyitig. 
Coaxin, wheedlivg. flattery. 
Coble, a fishing Iwict. 
Coe^cernovy, a lock of hair 

lied upvtL a gill's head; u 

top. 
Cockir, dim in. of cock, 
Coft, bought. 
Cog, a woollen dish. 
Ciiggie, dim in. of cog. 
Cttiia, from Kyle, a district 

of ..'l>;r.~hire; so called from 

Coil or C'oilus, a Pictish 

monarch'. 
Collie, a gniiral, and soui-c- 

times a particular namefjr 

cuunLry curs. 
Collie.ihavgie, fjiiarrelling. 
Com m ay » , co m in and. 
C,:of.', the end. 

Cvofa, a btockiiead, a ninny 
Cook it, nppiured and disap- 

pearcd by fits. 
Coosir, a ho~se kept feJ 

mares. 
Cons:,, did cast. 
Coot, the ancle, or foot. 
Ccofie, a wooden kitchen disk; 

folds wtiocrt legs are clai 





^ 




48 GLOSS.^RT. 




with feathers^ are said to 


Cronie, or Crony, an intimatt 




be cootie. 


acquaintance. 




Corbies, a species of the crow. 


Craod, or Croud, to coo as a 




Core, corpy, parts, clan. 


dove. 




C(irn't,fcd icith oats. 


Croon., a hollow, continued 




Colter, the inhablLantofa cot- 


moan; to make a noise like 




house, or cottage. 


the continued roar of a bull; 




Couthie, kind, loving. 


to hum a tune. 




Cove, a cave. 


Crooning, humming. 




Cowe, to terrify, to keep 


Crouchie, crook-backed. 




, under, to lop; a fright, a 


Grouse, cheerful,courageoTis. 




branch of furie, broom, iS-c. 


Crousely, cheerfully, coura- 




Cowp, to barter, to turrble 


geoiisly. 




over; a gansr. 


Crowdie, a composition of 




Cowpit, tumbled. 


oat-meal and boiled water, 




Cowrin, coicering, stooping. 


sometimes from the broth of 




Cowt, a colt, a young horse. 


beef, mutton, ^-c. 




Colic, snug. 


Crowdie- tinie,break fast time. 




Coziely, snugly. 


Croulin, crawling, creeping. 




Crabbit, crabbed, frefful, 


Crummock, a cow with crook- 




\ sour. 


ed horns. 




Crack, to converse, conversa- 


Cnnnp, hard and brittle; 




tion. 


spoken of bread. 




Crackin, conversing. 


Crunt, a blow on the head 




Craft, or Croft, in old has- 


with a cudgel. 




bandry, afield near a house. 


Cuif, a blockhead, a ninny. 


V 


Craigir, dimin. of crag, the 


Cummock, a short staff with 




throat, the neck. 


a crooked head. 




Craiks, birds, incessant calls. 


Ciirchie, a courtesy. 




or cries. 


Curler, aplay.r at a game on 




Crambo-clink, or Crambo- 


the ice, practised in Scot- 




jingle, rhymes, doggerel 


land, called curling. 




verses. 


Curlie, curled; and whose 




Crank, the noise of an 2in- 


hair falls naturally in 




greased wheel. 


ringlets. 




Ctankous, fretfnl, captious. 


Curling, a well known game 




Cranreuch, the hoar frost. 


on the ice. 




Crap, or Crop, the produce oj 


Curmurring, murmuring., a 




land; to crop. 


slight rumbling noise. 




Craw, a crow of a cock, a 


Curpin, the crupper. 




rook. 


Cushat, the dove, or wood- 




Creel, a kind of osier haskri; 


pigeon. 




to have one's wits in a cre(;I, 


Cutty, short, a spoon broken 




to be crazed, to be fascinat- 


in the middle, a light wo- 




ed. 


VI an. 




Creeshic, greasy. 


Ciilfystool, the stool on which 




Crooks, old ewes that have 


ciil/irits sit when making 




given over bearing 


vublic aati.y'aclion in tht 







GLOSS.mr. ' 4!) 




friV* for havivg tommVlid 
fornication. 


Di:zrn, or Diz'n, a dozen. 




J)iiited, stiipifed, hibatatcd. 




Dolt, sivpifird, crazed, a 




D 


stupid J uUow. 
J)o>i.<ie, V7!lu<kij. 




Vaddie, a father. 


Dooi S(.rrii'w; to sing doo!, tc 




Daczt, sli.pijicd, deprimd vf 


iammt, !v wovrn. 




viffour or seiisihiiity. 


Daos, di.vrs. 




Dajjin., vicrriment^ foclisli- 


D,.r!v, saucy, nice, discen- 




nrss. 


tented. ; 




Daft, vicrry. giddy, fo<dhh. 


Douce, or Dovsc, sober, 7/-/sr, I 




Diainev, rare, vuw and then. 


prudmt. 




■Diamcn-ickcr, ati car cf corn 


Doucily, solerly, prudently. 




Tinw and then. 


Dovgia, was, or wire abh. 




Dainty, pleasant, good hu- 


Doi.p sk/lpcr, oneicho strik:.-3 




moured, agreeable. 


the tail- \ t 




Dales, plains, volleys. 


Dour, sullen, clstinate. 




Danton, tu intimidate, to sub- 


Dvvre, stout, duraMe, sullen. 




due. 


stubborn. 




Dam, urine, piddle. 


Donscr, more prudent. 




Darlcims, darkling, being in 


Doio, am or are able, can. 




the dark, void of light. 


Dowff; pithliss, wanting 




Daitd, to thrash, to ubuse. 


spirit. 




Daitr, to dare, to defy. 


Dowie, iporn idih grief, fa- 




Daurt, dared, defud. 


t'.gue, >.{ c. Itiilf a.->leip. 




Daurg, or Daurk, a day's 


Dmvu/i, am or are not able. 




labour. 


cannot. 




Davoc, David. 


Dnylt, stupid. 




Dawd, a large piece. 


D.'up, a drop; lo drop. 




Dawtit, or JDaiitet, fondl'd, 


Drappivg, dropping. : 




caressed. 


D la un-ting, drawling. 




Dearies, dimin. of dears. 


Dreep, to nozc, to drop. 




Dcarthfu', dear. 
Deave, to deafen. 


I:rrii-'!i,tcdious,ling about it. 




Dribhlr, drizzlina; slaver. 
Driddle, to be diligent insig 




Deil-ma-care! no inditer for 




all that. 


nificavtly. 




Deleerit, delirious. 


Drift, a drove. 




Descrivc, to describe. 


Drcddum-lhe bcrrh. 




Devle, a stunning blow. 


Drone, part of a bagpipe. 




Diddle, to sliake, to jog. 


Dnni.rumpVt, that droops c£ 




Diffht, to wipe, to clean corn 


the crupper. 




from chaff; cleaned from 
chaff. 


Droukit, drenched, wet 




Drouth, (hirst, drought. 
Drucken, drunken. 




Dig'its, dean. 




Din, sallvw. 


Drumhj., muddy, thick^ o& 




Ding, to worst, tc push. 


seurc. 




Dinna, do not. 


DrumniGck, meal and water 




IHrl, a slight 'rcinulou;; 


mixed raw. 




etrokc or pain 


Drum, pet, sour kimour 

• 



50 



GLOSSJIRY. 



Doup, the backside. 

Dub, a small pond. 

Duds, rags, clothes. 

Duddic, ragged. 

Dung, worsted, 2;!(s/if(2, 

driven, exhausted. 
Dunted, beaten, boxed. 
Diish, to push as a ram, (^c. 
Du.sht,2>ushed bijw'am, oz, 

<Src- 



E'e, the eye. 

E'era, the eyes. 

E'enin, evening, the close of 

the day. 
Eerie, frighted, dreading 

spirits. 
Eiid, old age. 
Elbuck, the clboic. 
Eldritch, ghastly, frightful. 
En\ end. 

Enbrugh, Edinburgh. 
Eneugh, enough. 
Especial, especially. 
Etth, to try, to attempt, to 

endeavour. 
Eydentjdili gent, industrious. 



Fa.\fall, lot; to fall. 

Fas\ docs fall; water-falls. 

Faddom't, fathomed. 

Fae, a foe, an enemy. 

Faem,foam. 

Faiktt, unknoicn, unemploy- 
ed. 

Fairin,a present at fair-time. 

Fallow, fellow. 

Fund, did find. 

Fart, a cakn of bread. 

Fash, trouble,carc; to trouble^ 
to care for. 

Fashions, troublesome. 

Fasht, troubled. 

Fiister 1 rrn, Fastcens Encn 

Vauld a fold; to fold 



Faulding, folding. 

Faut, fault. 

Fawsont, decent, seemly 

Feiil, a-field: smooth. 

Ft:arfu\ frightful. 

Fear' t, frighted. 

Feat, neat, spruce. 

Fecht, to fight; a struggle oj 
whatever kind. 

Fitch in, fighting. 

Fechtin,figlUing. 

Feek, many, plenty. 

Fecket, loaistcoat. 

Feckfu' , large, brawny^stout. 

Feckles, puny, weak, silly, 
trifling. 

Feckly, weakly 

Feg, a fig. 

Fe i de ,feud, e ii m ity. 

Fell, keen, biting; the flesh 
immediately under the skin; 
a field pretty level, on Uit 
side or top of a hill. 

Fen, successful struggle, 
fight. 

Fenil, to live comfortably. 

Ferlie, or Ferly, to wonder, a 
wonder, a term of contempt. 

Fetch, to pull by fits. 

Fetch' t, pulled intermittently. 

Fey, foe. 

Fidgc, to fidget. 

Fiel, soft, smooth. 

Fient, fiend, a petty oath. 

Fier, sound, healthy; a bro- 
ther, a friend. 

Fisle, to make a rustling 
noise, to fidget; a bustle. 

Fit, afoot. 

Fizz, to make a hissing jioise, 
like fermentation. 

Fluinen, flannel. 

Flcech, to supplicate, or en- 
treat in a flattering man- 
ner. 

Flecih'd, supplicated. 

Fleeckin, supplicating. 

Fleesh. a fleece. 

Ficg, a kick, a random blow 





1 

GLOSSARY. ax 




Ftet/tevy to decoy by fair 


Fur, a furrow. 




words. 


Finvi, a forw, bench. 




FleLherin, flatterivg. 


Fyhe, trifling carts; to piddle, 




Flcwit^ a smart blow. 


to be in a fuss about trifles; 




Flcy, to scare, to frighten. 


to agitate. 




Flichter, to flutter, as young 


F//le, to soil, to dirty, to pol- 




ncstlivgs. when their dam 


lute. 




approaches. 


FyVt,. "oiled, dirtitd,poUvfed 




Flinders, shreds, broken 






pieces. 


G. 




Flingin-iree, apiece of timber 






hung by way of partition 


Gab, the v:oidh; to speak 




between tjco horses in a 


boldly, or pertly. 




stable; ajlnil. 


Gaberlvnzie. an (ddman. 




Flisk, to fret at the ynhe. 


Gadsman, ploughboy., the bey 




Fltskit, fretted. 


that drives the horses in 




Flitter, to vibrate like the 


the plough. 




wings of small birds. 


Gae, to go". 




Flittering, jlutterivg, vibrat- 


Gaed, w'cvt. 




ing. " 


Gaen, or Gane, gone. 




Flunkic, a servant in livery. 


Gaun, going. 




Foord, a ford. 


Gaet, or Gate, way, manner 




Forbears, forrf other s. ances- 


road. 




tors. 


Gang, io go, to wcJk. 




Forbyc, beside.'!. 


Gftvgrcl, strolling, wander' 




Forfain, distr€ssed,icorn out, 


iiig, roving. 




jaded. 


Gar, to niake, to force. 




Furfoughtcn , fatigued. 


Gar't, forced. 




Fvrgathcr,to meet, to encoun- 


Garten, a garter. 




ter with. 


Gash, wise, sagacious, talk- 




Forge, to forgive. 


ative; io converse. 




Forjrsket, jaded with fatigue. 


Gaskin, conversing. 




Forrit, forzcard. 


Gaary, jolly, large. 




Father, fodder. 


Gawky, half-witted, foolish. 




Fyv.,fid!, druvh. 


romping. 




Fovghien, troubled, harassed. 


Gear, riches, goods of any 




Fi'uth, plenty, enough, or 


kir,d. 




vtorc than cnov<'k. 
Fore, a bushLl, ic; also a 


Geek, to toss the head in 




icantonncss or scorn. 1 




pitchfork. 


Ged, a pike. _ | 




Frae, froht. 


Gentles, great folks. ' j 




Frcath, froth. 


Gcordie, a guinea. \ 




FricH\ friend 


Get, a child, a young one. 




Fu\full. 


Ghaist, a ghost 




Fud, the scut or tail of the 


Gic, to give. 




kare, coney, <Xc. 


Gicd, gave. 




FhJ!', to blow intcrviittently. 


Giev, given. 




Fuff't, did blow. 


Giftie, dumn. of gift. 




Funnie,f-Al of merriment. 


Oiglets, playful girh 

! 



5-i GLOSSARY. 




Gillie, d-)7fi.}7i. jf gill. 


Gowl, to howl. 




liilpei/, a half croivn, halfin- 


Gowling, howling 




. formed boy or girl, a romp- 


Graff, a grave. 




ing lad, a huiden. 


Grain, or Grane, a groan; t« 




Gimmer, an ewe from one to 


groan. 




two years old. 


Grain'd and Graunted, 




Gin, if, against. 


groaned and grunted. 




GipsTf, a young girl. 


Graining, groaning. 




Girdle, a round plate of iron 


Grain, a pronged instrument 




for toasting calces o-vcr the 


for cleansing stables. 




fre. 


Graith, accoutrements, fur- 




■ G/rn, to grill, to twist the 


niture, dress. 




features in rage, atrony. 


Grannie, a grandmother. 




^'C. 


Grape, to grope. 




Girning, grinning. 


Grapit, groped. 




Gizz, aperiioig. 


Grat, wept, shed tears. 




Glaikit, inattentive, foolish. 


Great, intimate, familiar. 




Glaive, a sword. 


Grce, to agree; to bear the 




Glazie^ glittering, smooth 


giee, to be decidedly victor. 




like glass. 


Gree't, agreed. 




G^aunVd, aimed, snatched. 


Greet, to shed tears, to weep. 




Gleg, sharp, ready. 


Greetin, crying, weeping. 




Gleib, glebe. 


Grippet, catcked, seized. 




Glen, dale, deep valley. 


Grout, to wet the whistle of 




Gley, asquint, to squint. 


one's groat, to play a losing 




Glib-gabbct, that speaks 


game. 




1 smoothly, and readily. 


Grousome, loathsome, grim. 




Glint, to peep. 


Grozet, a gooseberry. 




Glinted, peeped. 


Grumph, a grunt; to grunt. 




Glintin, peeping. 


Grumphie, a soio. 




Gloamin, the twilight. 


Grun\ ground. 




Glowr, to stare, to look, a 


Grmistane, a grindstone. 




stare, a look. 


Gruntle, the phiz, a grunting 




Glowr' d, looked^ stared 


noise 




Gloioran, staring 


Grunzie, the mouth. 




Goai>an, looking or staring 


Grushie, thick, of thriving 




awkwardly. 


growth. 




Goioan, the flower of the 


Gude, the Supreme Being; 




daisy, dandelion, hawk- 


good. 




ZBeed, ^-c. 


Guid, good. 




Gowany, gowany glens,, dair 


Guid-morning, good morn- 




sieil dales. 


ing. 




Gowd, gold. 


Ouiils'en, good evening. 




Gowff, the name of golf; to 


Guidman and Guidwife, ths 




strike, as tlic bal does the 


master and mistress of Ul» 




ball at golf. 


house; young guidiiiaa, a 




Gowff'd, struck. 


man newly marritd. 




Goick, a cuckooy a term of 


Oiddfather, a fatherinlava. 




contempt 

i 


QMidi!iother,amoth£r in lav 





GLOSSARV. 



53 



(7itlly,orGuUie,n large knife. 
Oii:ilie, muddy, turhiit. 
Gumption, understanding, 

judgment. 
Gusty, tasteful. 

II. 

/fa', hall. 

Ha' Bible, the preat Bible 
that lies in the hall. 

Hae, to have. 

Haeufhad. 

Haet, fienthact, a petty oath 
of negation; nothing. 

Hajfct, the temple, the side of 
the head. 

Haffiins, nearly half, partly. 

Hag, a scar, or gulf in mosses 
or moors; an ugly old wo- 
man. 

Haggis, a kind of pndditig 
boiled in the stomach of a 
cow or sheep. 

Hain, to spare, to save. 

Hain\l, spared. 

Hairst, harvest. 

Ha.ifh, a petty oath. 

Haivers, von.vense, speaking 
without thought. 

HaV, or Hald, an abiding 
place. 

Hale, whoU, tight, healthy. 

Haly, holy. 

Hnllan, a particular parti- 
tion zD'ill in a cottage, or 
more properly a scat of 
turf at the outside. 

Hallowmas, Hallow-eve, the 
'.nst of October. 

Harne, home. 

Hamcly, homely, affable. 

Hameward, homeioard. 

Han'', or HainV , hand. 

Hap, an outer garment^ man- 
tle, plaid, >?c.; to xorap, to 
cover, to hap. 

Happer, a hopper. 

Happing hoppinn- 



Hap-step-an'' -lovp, hop, skip 

and leap. 
Harkit, hearkened. 
Ham, very coarse linen, 
Nash, a fellow that neither 
knows hov- to dress nor act 
with prcpriciy. 
Hastit, hastened. 
Hand, to hold. 
Havghs, low-lying, rich 

lands, valleys. 
Haurl, to drag, toped. 
Hanrlin, peeling. 
Haverel,a half-witted person 

one who talks foolishly. 
Havins, good manners, de- 
corum, good sense. 
Hatckie, a cow, properly one 

with a white fare 
Healsome, healthful, whole- 
some. 
Heapit, heaped- 
Hearse, hoarse 
HearH, hear it 
Henrtie, dimin. of heal 
Heather, heath. 
Hech! oh! strange! 
Hecht, promisrd to foretell 
something that is to be got 
or given; foretold; the thing 
furctold: offered. 
Heckle, a board in which arc 
fixed a number of sharp 
pins, used in dressing 
hemp, flax, S,c. 
Heeze, to elevate, to raise. 
Helim, the rudder, or helm. 
Herd, to tend flocks; one who 

tends flocks. 
Hrrrin, a herring. 
Hcrry, to plunder; most pro 
perly to plunder bird's 
nests. 
Herryment, plundering, de- 
vastation. 
Hcrsel, herself; also a hera 

of cattle of anv sor-.. 
Hct, hot. 
Heugh, a a-ag a coalpu 



5t 



GLOSS.'JRr. 



Hide and Hair, t/ie carcass 
and hide, thr. whale. 

Wlch; to hi)hbli;; to halt. 

Hilchiii, halting. 

Hlltie-skiltlc, in rapid suc- 
cession. 

Himsel, him.^rff. 

Hinr.y, honey. 

Hing, hang. 

Hirple, to walk craztlij, to 
creep. 

jlirplin, walking crarAhj. 

Hissel, so viiiny cattle as- one 
person can attend. 

Histic, dry^ chapt, barren. 

Hitch, a loop, a knot. 

Hizzie, huzzy, ayonng girl. 

Hoddin, the motinn of a sage 
cunntryman riding on a 
cart-liorse; humble. 

Hog-score, a kind of dislancc- 
lins, in curling, drawn 
across the link. 

Hog shouther,a kind of horse- 
play, by jusLling with the 
shoulder; to jus tie. 

Hool, outr.r skin or case, a 
nut-shell, peasc-swade. 

Hoolie, shiwhj, leisunly. 

Hoolic! take leisure! stop. 

Hoard, a hoard; to hoctrd. 

Hoordit, hoarded. 

Horn, a spoon made of horn. 

Hornie, one <f the many 
names of the devil. 

Host, or Hoasl, to cough. 

Hosiin, coughing. 

Hosts, coughs. 

Hatched, turned topsy-tur- 
vcy, blended, mixed. 

Houghmagandie, fornica- 
tion. 

Houp^ hope. 

Housif, dimin. of house. 

Hove, to heave, to swell. 

Hov'd, heaved, swelled. 

How die, a midwife. 

Howe, hoUov}; n hollovs or 
dell 



Hnwe-backit, sunk in the 
back, spoken of a horse, So. 

Howff, a landlady, a house 
of resort. 

Hawk, to dig. 

Howkit, digged. 

Howkin, digging. 

Howlel or Houlet. an owi 

Hoy, to urge. 

Hoy't, urged, 

Hoyse, ap-ull upwards. 

Hoyt.c, to amble crazili*. 

Hughoc, dimin. of Hugh. 

Hunkers, the ham, t/ie hinder 
part of the thigh. 

Hurchcon, a hedgehog; a term 
of slight anger. 

Hardies, the loins, ike crup- 
per. 

Hushio'n, a cushion, stock- 
ings without feet. 



/', in. 

Icker, arc ear of com. 
Ter-oe, a great grand child. 
Ilk, or Ilka, each, every. 
lU-willic, ill-natured, mali- 
cious, niggariiiy. 
Ingine, genius, ingenuity. 
Ingle, fire, fire-place. 
I'se, I shall or will. 
Ithcr, other, one another. 



Jad, jade; also a familiar 
term among country folks 
for a giddy young girl. 

Jug, to prick, to pierce. 

Jauk, to dally, to trifle. 

Jaukin, trifling, dalbjing 

Jauntie, dimm. of jaunt. 

Jaup, a jerk of water; to jerk 
as agitated water. 

Jaw, coarse raillery; to pom 
out, to shut,tojerk as water 

Jiilit. a jilt, a giddy gir 



GLOSS..^Rr 



55 



Jimp, to jvinp'; slevdcr in 
the waist, hainlsovte. 

Jink, tu doiloc, to turn a ear- 
lier : a sudden turitiiig a 
corner. 

Jin/.er, one who turns quick- 
Iff, a gay sprightly girl, a 
wag. 

Jinking, dodging. 

Jirk, a jerk. 

Jo or Joe, n siccclhcart, n fa- 
vovritc. 

Joctclrg, a hivd of kv\fp. 

Jiiuk, to stoop,to biiw till /tend. 

Jaw, to jow, a verb ic/iich in- 
cludrs both the .^wivgivg 
motion and pealing sound 
of a large bill. 

Jundie, tojuslle. 



Kae, a daw. 

Kail, culewort, a kind of 
broth. 

Kail-runt, the stem of cole 
■wort. 

Kain, fowls, S-c. paid as rent 
by a farmer. 

Kebars, rafters. 

Kebbuck, a cheese. 

Keck, a peep, in peep. 

Kelpies, a sort of niischierous 
spirits, said to haw I fords 
and ferries at night, espe- 
cially in storms. 

Ken, to knoio. 

Kev\l or Kent, knew. 

Kinnin, a small matter. 

Kenspeekle, wrll-knoirn. 

Kel, iitettcd, hairy; ujleece of 
wool. 

Kaiiigh, cnrkivg anxiety. 

Kilt, to truss vp the clothes. 

KimTiier, a young girl, a gos- 
sip. 

Kin, kindred. 

fCiti', kind. 



Kii>g\<i-honJ, a certain part 
of the entrails of an ox, S,c 

Kinfra, tonntry. 

Kintra-cooztr, a coitnt"}) 
slallion. 

Kirn, ti,e harvest supper, a 
churn; to r/nirn. 

Kirsen, to christen, cr bap- 
tize. 

K'ist, a chest, a simp counter 

Kitcbni, cvy thing that is 
e.:tcu with bread, to serve 
fur sovp, gravy, >^c. 

Kiih, knuhid. 

Kittle, to ti, kle, ticklish, like- 
ly. 

Kit.'liv, a ynvrg cat. 

Kiuillc, to c:id(lle. 

Kit, III in, cuddling. 

Knaggie, like nagf, or points 
of rocks. 

Kmippin hammer, a hammer 
for breaking stones. 

Kno ice, n sm all round hillock. 

Knurl, a elicarf. 

Kye, cows. 

Kyle, n district of .Ayrshire 

Kyle, the helly. 

Kythe, to discover, to shcvr 
one's self. 



J.uddie, dninn. of lad. 
Laggen, the angle hctwcev. 

the side and bottom of a 

wooden disk. 
T,aiirh, low. 
jAiiri)i<T, wading and sinking 

in snow, ivud, S,c. 
J.uith, loath. 
Laitlifii,' bashful, shcenish, 

modest. 
J.alland. a native of the lota 

lands of Scotland. 
J.altttus, Scottish dialed 
J.anibie, diniin. of lamb. 
J.nm],!!, a kind of shell-tish 
T.an\ laud, estate 



1 . - - 

! 

5G GI.OSS.^Jir. 


1 


Lane, lone, inv Iniif-, thy lane, 


Loot, did let. 




£.-c. 


Loovts, plural of loof. 


1 


Laneli/, loncbj. 


Loan, a fellow, a ragamuffin, 


1 


Lang, Loner; to tUink. loiig; to 


a icoman of easy virtiki. 


1 


long, to' weary. 


Loup, jump, leap. 


1 
i 


Lap, did I" Lip 


IjOWC, a flume. 




Lire, the re.c, the remainder. 


Lozcin, flaming. 




the others. 


Lowrie, abbreviation of LaW' 


1 


Laverock, the lark. 


rence. 


1 


aioin, shut, reckoning hill. 


Loicse, to loose. 


1 


Laidin, lowland. 


Lou)s'd, loosed. 




Lea, pasture, ground un- 


Lug, the ear, a handle. 




ploughed. 


Lnggie, a sjnall wooden disk 




Lca'e, to leave. 


■toith handle. 




Leal, loyal, true, faithful. 


Luni, the chimney. 


1 


Lea-rig, grassy ridge 


Luck, a large piece of cheese, 


1 


Lear, prouou!ic<'>i ^Jire, 


flesh, ^-C. 




j learning. 


Lunt. a column of smoke; to 


! 


Lee-lang, live-long. 


smoke. 


! 


Leesome, pleasant. 


Lnntin, smoking. 


i 


Leczb me, a phrase of con- 


Lyart, of a mixed colour; 


i 


gratulatory endearment: I 


'gray. 




am happy in thee, or proud 






of thee. 


U. 




Leister, a three-pronged dart 






for striking fish. 


J\fae, more. 




Leugh, did lauffh. 


J\Iair, more. 




Leuk, a look; to look. 


Maist, most, almost 




Libbct, gcld-d. 


Maistbj, mostly. 




Lie'n, lying. 


Jfak, to make. 


i 


Lift^sky 


Mikin, making. 


1 


Lightly, sneeringhj, to sneer 


.niailcn, a farm. 




at. 


Millie, Molly. 




Lilt, a ballad, a tune; to sing. 


\Mang, among. 




Limmer a kept mistress, a 


Manse, the parsonage housc^ 




stramprt. 


lohere the minister lives. 




Limp't, limped, hobbled. 


Mantcele, a mantle. 




Link, to trip along. 


Murk, or Merk; an ancient 




Linkin, tripping. 


Scottish silver coin, in 




Linn, a water-fall, a preci- 


value thirteen pence and 




pice. 


one-third of a penny ster- 




Lint, flax; Unti' thebell,^ax 


ling. 




injlowir. 


Mark, marks. (This and 




Lintwhite, a linnet. 


several other noxms, which 




L>})pe7i''d, trusted, put confi- 


in English require an s to 




dence in. 


form the plural are in 




Loan, or Loanin, theplace of 


Scotch,like the wordsshcep. 




milking. 


deer, the same in both num.- 




Loof, the palm of the ^' ind. 


ben ) 





GLOSS.^RY. " 51 


Mar's year, the year 1715. 


Moil, labour. 


Mashlunif Meslin, viixed 


Moistifii, to moisten. 


corn. 


Monie, or Mor.y, many. 


Mask, to mash, as malt, Si-c. 


Moop, to nibble as a sheep. 


to infuse. 


Morlan", of or belonging tt 


Mas/un-pat, a tea-pot. 


moors. 


Jiliiuken. a hare. 


Morn, the next day, tomor 


Maun, must. 


roJO. 


Mavis, the thrush. 


Mottie, fullof motes or smal 


Maw, to mow. 


particles of matter. 


Mawin, mowing. 


Mou, the mouth. 


Mcere, a mare. 


Moudii'wort, a mole. 


Mnickle, or Meikle, much. 


Mousie, dimin. of mouse. 


Mdancholius, mo urn fid. 


Muckle, or Mickle,grie.at, big 


Melder, corn, or grain of any 


much. 


kind, sent to the mill to be 


Musie, dimin. of muse. 


ff round. 


Muslin-kail, brnth compvsec 


Mell, to meddle; alsoamallet 


simply of water, shcdlea 


for ponndinrr barley in a 


barley, and greens. 


stone truuffh. 


Mutchkiu, an English pint. 


Mf.lvic, to soil with mral. 


Mysel, myself. 


Men\ to amend, to reform, to 




ckangefram worse to better. 


N. 


Mense, good manners, dcco- 




mm. 


JVa, no. not, vor. 


Mcnscless, ill bred, rnde, im- 


JVae, no, not any. 


pudent. 


J^aeihimr, or JVaithing, no 


Messin, a stnall dog. 


thing.' 


Midden, a dunghill. 


JVrt?>, a horse •« 


Middrn-crccls, baskets fur 


JVrt?ie, none. 


holding dung. 


J^uppij, nh; to be tipsy. 


Midden hole, a gutter at th: 


J\ritch, to lay hold of violently 


hiittom of a dunghill. 


JVeebor, a neighbour. 


Mid, prim, affectedly meek 


J^eglackit, neglected. 


Min^, mind, remcmbrunce. 


Jfeuk, nook. 


Mind't. mind it, resolved, in- 


JSTiist, next in order, or next 


tending. 


in time. 


Minnie, mother, dam. 


J\''ieve, the fist. 


Mirk, dark. 


mevefu, a handful, a smah 


Mirkrst, darkest. 


quantity. 


Misca\ to abuse, to call 


JVirffcr, an exchange; to ez- 


names. 


cliange, to barter. 


■Mi sea'' d, abused. 


J^igcr, a negro. 


Mislear'd, mischievous, >in- 


JV7He tailed cat, a hangman's 


mnnnerly. 


whip. 


Mistruk, mistook. 


JVit, a nut. 


Mither, a mother. 


.A'orland, of or belonging ii 
the north. 


Mii.tie-maztie, confusedly 


viizcd. 


J^otic't, noticed, observed 


Vol. I. . E 



53 OLOSS.^RY. 

J^Towtc, black cattle. 
O. 

0\ of. 

OcJicls., vame. if mounLa'ins. 

O haitli! O faith! an oath. 

Onic, or Ony, any. 

Or, is often used far ere, be- 
fore. 

Orra, siipeijluous, unwanted. 

O-t, of it. 

Cnightlins, in the least dr.gree. 

Ouric, shivering, droopinry. 

Oursd, or Oursels, ourselves. 

Outlers, cattla not housed. 

O'cer, over. too. 

Owre-hip, a toay oj fetching 
a blow with a hammer over 
the arm. 



Pack, intimate, familiar; 
twelve stone of wool. 

Paidel, to paddle, to jduy in 
icater. 

Painch, the paunch. 

Paitricky a partridge. 

Panff, to cnivi. 

Parle, speech. 

Parritrh, oat-meal pudding, a 
well-known Scotch dish. 

Pat, did put, a pot. 

Pattle, or Pcttle, a plough- 
staff. 

Paiighiy, proud, haughty. 

Pawky, or Pawkie, cunning, 
sly. 

Pinft, paid, bent. 

Pech, to fi tch the breath short 
as in an asthma. 

Pechan, the crop, the stomach. 

Pcrlin, perlivg. 

Pet, a domesticated sheep; a 
great favourite. 

Fettle, to cherish; a plough- 
staff. 



Philbegs, short petticoats 
worn by highlandmen. 

Phroise, fair speeches, flat- 
tery; to flatter, to icheedle. 

Phrai sin, flattery . 

Pibroch, a highland war song 
adapted to the. bagpipe. 

Pickle, a small quantity. 

Pine, pain, uneasiness. 

Pit, tonput. 

Plncad, a public proclama- 
tion. 

Plack, an old Scotch coin the 
thirdpart of a Scotch peiiny, 
ticelvc of which make an 
English penny. 

Plnc/dess pennyless, without 
money. 

Plaid, an outer loose gar- 
ment. 

Flatie, dimin. of plate. 

Picagh, or Plrw, a plough. 

Pliukie, a trick, a mischief. 

Pock, a bag; a small sack. 

Poind, to seize on cattle, or 
take the goods, as the laws 
of Scolhnid allow, for rent. 

Poortiih, ponerty, indigence. 

Pov, to pall. 

Pouch, a pocket. 

Pouchie, dimin. of pouch. 

Pouk, to pluck. 

Pause, to push, to penetrate. 

Poussie, a hare, a cut. 

Pout, a poult, a chick. 

Pou't, did pull. 

Fovther, or Poiother, powder, 

Pouthery, like powder. 

Pow, the head, the skull 

Pownie, a little horse. 

Preen, a pin, a pointed short 
piece of icire. 

Prent, print. 

F'ie, to taste. 

Prie'd, tasted. 

Pricf, proof. 

Prig, to cheapen, to dispute. 

Priggin, cheapening. 

Prinisie. demure, precipe 





glossjjry. sa 






propone, to lay dd:cn, to pro- 


Reck, to heed. 






pose. 


Rede, counsel, to counsel. 






Provost, the first magistrate 


Rcd-wat-shad, wal/ang in 






of a royal borongh, ari^iDC7-- 


blood over the shoe tops. 






ing to Ijord Miivur in Kii <r- 


Rcd-Kud, stark mad. 






land. 


Rce, half -drunk, fuddled. 






Provsscs, plural of Provost. 


Reck, smoke, to smoke. 






Pun'l, vound^ pouvds. 


Reikin, smoking. 






Pylc, I .^ .'e o' caff, a single 


Ret Id I, smoked, smoky. 






graty. vj chaff. 


Rentead, remedy, alternative. 
Requite, required. 






Q. 


Rest, to stand restive. 
Rcsiil, stood restive, stunted. 






Qiiak, to quake. 


iciihered. 






Qiiat, to f/uit. 


Ri striked, restricted. 






Q,ucy, a cow from one to two 


Row, repent. 






years old. 


Ricf, or Reef, plenty. 
Riif-raiidies, sturdy beggars 






R. 


Rig, a ridge. 

Rill, to rivn, to melt. 






Ragicccd, herb rngirnrt. 


Rink, the course of the stoncSy 






Raiblc, to rattle 7;o7;»e«.>v; to 


a term in curling an ice. 






talk foolishly. 


Rivnin, running. 






Rair, to roar. 


Ripp, a handful cfvnthrash- 






Raize, to madden, to i/fiurne. 


cd corn. 






RonifcczVd, fatigued, over- 


Risk'f, made a noise like the 






spread. 


tearing of roots. 






Ravi-stam, thoughtless, for- 


Rnikin, a term derived from 






to ant. 


those primitive times, when . 






Randic, turbulent, irregular. 


neighl.ours met alternately 






unsettled. 


at one another^s houses to 






Rant/r, vicrrij, cheufvl, 


spend the evening; the fe- 






jovial. 


vials, that (hey might en- 






Ruploch, properly a coarse 


joy the gossip icilhont t?i6 






cloth, but used as an ad- 


imputation of idleness. 






noun for coarse. 


brought their rocks or dis- 






Rardy, excellently, very itidl. 


t.'ffs with them. 






Rash, a rush. 


Rood, stinds iikeicise for the 






Rash-buss, a bu-^h of rushes. 


plural roods. 






Rataii, a throb, a pulsaHoii. 


Roon, a shred. 






Rattvn, a rat. 


Roose, to praicie,to commend, 






Raucle, rash, stout, fearless. 


applause. 






Raught, reached. 


Roun\ round, in the circle of 






Raio, a row. 


naghbovrhood. 






Rax, to stretch. 


Roupot, hoarse as with a cold 






Raz'd, stretched, levied. 


Routhie, ptcntful. 






Ream, cram; to cram. 


Row, to roll, to wrap. 






Reamin, brimful, frothing. 


Row't, rolled; wrapped. 






Reave, rove. 


Rowtc. to Ifiw. to bellow 


4 



60 



GLOSSARY. 



Rowth, or Routh, plenty. 

Rowtat, lowing: 

Rozct, rosin. 

Run^^ a cudgel. 

Runkied, wrinkled. 

Runt, the stem of colewort or 

cabbage. 
Rath, a worn mi's name, the 

book so called; sorrow. 



o«c, so. 

Salt, soft. 

f,air, to serve; a sore, 

Sairli/, or Sarlie, sorely. 

Siiir't, served. 

Sark, a shirt. 

.Sarkit, provided in shirts. 

Saugh, the willow. 

Sdul, soul. 

Saiimo7it, salmon. 

.Saunt, a saint. 

Saut, salt- 

Saw, to sow. 

Satcin, sowing 

Sax, six. 

Scailh, to damage, to injure; 

injury. 
Sr.ar, to scare; a scar. 
Scaiid, to scald. 
Scauld, to scold. 
Scone, a tcind of bread. 
Scoiiner, a loathing, to loathe. 
Horaich, to scream as a hen, 

partridge, i^c. 
Screed, to tear; a rent, 
Scrieve, to glide stcifUy 

along. 
Scrietun, gleesomehj, swiflly. 
Scrimp, to scant. 
Scrimpet, did scant, scanhj. 
Sce'd, did see. 
Seizin, seizing. 
Scl, self; a body's sd, one's 

self alone. 
Sdl't, did sell. 
Sen', to send. 



Sen't, I, he or she sent, or did 
send, send it. 

Servan\ servant. 

Sessw7i, an inferior spirit- 
ual court, of the kirk of 
Scotland, consisting of an 
assembly of ciders, who sit 
in judgment, andpronounce 
sentence on Christian do- 
linquenis. 

Settlin, settling; to get a SPt- 
tlin, to be frightened into 
quietness. 

Sets, sets off, goes away, 

Shackl'd, distorted, df formed. 

Shaird, a shred, a shard. 

ihangan, a stick cleft at one 
end, for putting the tail of 
a dog, vS-c. into, by way of 
mischief, or to frighten kirn 
away. 

Shave, a trick, any thing done 
to cheat jocosely, or to di- 
vert. 

Shaver, a humorous wag, a 
barber. 

Shavie, dimin. of shave. 

Shaw, to show; a small wood 
in a hollow pluce. 

Shrarr.r, a reaper, one em 
plnjcd in cutting down 
corn. 

Sheen, bright, shining. 

Sheep-shatik, to lliink one's 
self iiae sheep-shank, to be 
coriccited. 

Sherra-moor, Sheriff-moor, 
the frld vhere the famous 
battle of that name was 
fought in the rebellion of 

nif). 

Sheugh, a ditch, a trench, a 

sluice. 
Shiel, a shed. 
Shrill, shrill. 
Shog, a shock, a push off at 

one side. 
Shoot, a shovel. 
Skoon, shoes. 



GLOSSARY. 



61 



Shore, to offcr^ to give, to 

threaten. 
Shor'd., offered. 
Shout/icr, the shoulder. 
Sic, such. 

Sicker, sure, steady. 
Sidelins, sidelong; slanting. 
Siller, silver, money. 
Simmer, a summer. 
Signet, singed, scorched, 

despicable. 
Sin, a ion. 
Siii\ since, 
Siiniy, sunny. 
Si7i.<;yuc, since. 
Shuit/i. See Scaith. 
S/ifiUum, a worthless J'cllow. 
S/celp, to strike, to slap; to 
walk with a smart tripping 
step: a smart stroke. 
Skclpi-limnicr, a technical 

term in female scolding. 
Skclpin, Stappiug, walking, 

eager, warm. 
Skiegh, orSkcigh, proud, vice, 

highmcttled. 
Skiiiklin, a small portion. 
Skirl, to shriek, to cry shrilly. 
Skirling, shrieking, crying, 
Skirrt, shrieked. 
Sklent, slant; to run aslant, 

to deviate from truth. 
Sklented, ran, or hit in an 

oblique direction. 
Skrcigh, a scream; to scream. 
Skyriu, shining, making a 

great show. 
Skyte, force, violence. 
Slade, did slide. 
Slae, a sloe. 
Slap, a gate, a breach in a 

fence. 
Slaw, sJoio. 
Slep., sly. 
Sleest, slyest. 

Slrekit, sleek, sly, cunning. 
Sliadery, slippery. 
Slype, to fall over, as a jpct 
furrow froyi the tlouir.'i. 



Slypet,fcll. 
Sma\ small. 
Smeddum, dust, ponder, met 

tie, sense. 
Siiiiddy, a smithy. 
Smoor, to smother. 
Smaot-'d, sivothrrcd. 
Smoutie, smutty, obscene. 

ugly. 
S my trie, a mimcrous collec- 
tion of small individuals. 
Shaking, the champing of a 
dog's teeth when he aims at 
his prey, 
.^jiaiiper, ."tumble. 
Sna.'ih, abuse. Billingsgate. 
Snaw, snow; to snow- 
Snaw-broo, melted snoic. 
Snawie, snowie. 
S7icck, luich of a door. 
Sued, to lop, to cut rjf. 
Sneeshin, sn>iff. 
Sneeshin-mill, a snt-ffbox. 
Sne.ll, bitter, biting. 
Snick drawing, thick con- 
triving. 
Snick, the latrhet of a door. 
Snool, one ichose spirit is 
broken with oppressive 
slavery; to .submit tamely, 
to sneak, to oppress. 
Snoove, to go smoothly and 

constantly, to sneak. 
Snoicff, to scent or snuff, as a 

dog, horse, S,c. 
Snowkit, scented, snuffid. 
Sodger, a si.ldicr. 
Son.He, having sweet engag 

ing looks; lucky, jolly. 
Soom, to siciin. 
South, truth, a petty oath. 
Sough, a sigh, a sound dying 

on the ear. 
Souple, flexible, swift. 
Souter, a shoemaker. 
Sowens, a dish made of oat- 
meal, the seeds of oat-meal 
soured, S.c. boiled up tUl 



Il 




02 ' GLOSS^^RY. 


tknj malic an agreeable 


Squed, a scream, a screech, tn 


puddlnff. 


scream. 


Scwpy a spocnful, a sirtall 


Stacker, to stigger. 


quantity of any tiling 


Stack, a rick of corn, hay, Sre. 


liquid. 


Staggie, dimin. of stag. 


Sowlk, to try over a tune w'th 


Stalicart, strong, stout. 


a loio wkisil,\ 


Stan\ to stand. 


Sowthcr, }<oldsr; tu sollcr^'to 


Stari't, did stand. 


cemint. 


Stane, a stone. 


Spar, to prophesy, to ditune. 


Stank, did stink; a pool of 


Spair/re, to dash, to soil as 


standing water. 


with viirc. 


Stap, stop. 


S/iaid, a i.imh. 


Stark, stout. 


^pavie, the spai-in. 


Startle, to run as cattle stung 


Spavifi, hanivg the !^paiHn. 


by thegad-jly. 


Spent, or Spate, a sweeping 


Staukin, stalking, walking 


torrent, after rain or thiuo. 


with a stately step. 


Sped, to climb. 


Stanmrcl, a blockhead, half. 


Speet, to spit, to thr/'st 


witted. 


through. 


Staio, did steal, to surfeit. 


Spencc, the country par-htir. 


Stech, to cram the belly. 


Spier, to ask, to inquire. 


Stechin, cramming. 


Splcr't, inquired. 


Steik, to shut; a stick. 


Splatter, a splatter; to splut- 


Steer, to molest, to stir. 


ti;r. 


Stecvc,firm, compacted. 


Splcuchan, a tohacro-pouch. 


Stall, a still. 


Splore, a frolir, a vuise, a 


Sten^ to rear as a horse. 


riot. 


Sten't, reared. 


Spraltle, to scramhle. 


Stents, tribute, dues of any 


Spreclded, spott/d, speckled, 


kind. 


cuiiabere I. 


Sley, steep. 


Spring, a quick air in music, 


St.yest, steepest. 


a Scottish rrcl. 


Sli'bble, stubble. 


Sprit, a tou<;h ranted plant. 


Stibhlc-rig, the reaper in har- 


something Like ra.'<hes. 


vst who takes the lead. 


Sprittle, fall af spirits. 


Stick «7i' stow, totally, alto' 


Spunk, fire, mettle, wit. 


irfther. 


Spankie, mrtllesoiae, fiery; 


Stilt, a crutch; to halt, to 


vvill-o'-wliisp, 0?- 'igjiis 


limp. 


fat iris. 


Stimpart, the ciirhth part of 


Spurtle, a stick used in mak- 


a IVinchestcr bushel. 


ing oat-mtal pad.ding, or 


Stirk, a cow or bullock ayear 


porridge, a notable Scotch 


oil. 


dish. 


Stock, a plant or root of cole- 


Squad, a crc70, a party. 


zcort, cabbage, S,c. 


Siptattcr, tojltittcr in water. 


Stockin, stocking, throwing 


as a wild dack, S,-c. 


the stockin'; when the bride 


Squfattle, to spraul, to stnig- 


and bridegroom are put 


:? 


•I',-' hed ff'T'/ '*' ranjUe o«t 









OLOS 


SjIR Y. C3 






the former throws a stock- 


Swat, did sweat. 






ivg at random amovg the 


Sicatch, a sample. 






company, and the person 


Swats, drink, good ale. 






whom it strikes is (he next 


Sweativ, sweating. 






that will be married. 


Swecr, lazy, averse; dead- 






Stooked, made up in shocks as 


sweer, extremely averse. 






corn. 


Swoor, swore, did swear. 






Stoor, sounding hollow, 


Swinge, to beat, to strike, to 






strong and hoarse. 


whip. 






Slot, an ox. 


Swirl, a curve, an eddying 






Sloup, or Stowp, a kind of 


blast, or pool, a knot in 






jug, or dish, with a handle. 


rcovd. 






Stiiure, dust, more particu- 


Swirlie,knaggy,full of knots. 






larly dust in motion. 


Swith, get away. 






Stoiolins, by stealth. 


Swither, to hesitate in choice; 






Stown, stoten. 


an irresolute wavering in 






Stoyte, stumble. 


choice. 






Struck, did strike. 


Srjne, since, ago, then. 






Strae, straw, to die a fair 








strae death, to die in bed. 


T. 






Strnik, did strike. 








Straikit, stroked. 


Tackets, a kind of nails for 






Strnppan, tall andhandsovic. 


driving into the heels of 






Straught, straight. 


shoes. 






Streck, stretched; to stretch. 


Tae, a toe; three tae'd, having 






Striddle, to straddle. 


three prongs. 






Stroan, to spout, to piss. 


Tairgc, to examine; a target. 






Strunt, spirituous liquor of 


Tak, to take, 






any kind; to walk sturdily. 


Takin, taking. 






Studdie, an anvil. 


Tamtulla, the name of a 






Stumpie, dimin. of stump. 


mountain. 






Stuff, corn or pulse of any 


Tangle, a sca-wccd. 






kind. 


Tap, the top. 






Sturt, troubled; to molest. 


Tapeless, headless, foolish. 






Sturtin, frighted. 


Tarrow, to murmur at one's 






Sucker, sugar. 


allowance. 






Sud, should. 


Tarrvw't, murmur. 






Sugh, the continued rushing 


Tarry-breeks, a sauor. 






noi.^e nfwind or water. 


To.rtan, a kind of cloth che- 






Suthron, scuthcrv, an old 


quered with stripes of va- 






name for the English na- 


rious colours. 






tion. 


Tauld, or Tald, told. 






Swaird, sward. 


Tnupie, a foolish, thoughtless 






SisnlVd, swelled. 


younsr person. 






Swankie, or Swankrr, a tight 


Touted, or Tautie, matted 






strapping young fellow or 


together; spoken of hair or 






girl. 


wool. 






Swap, an exchange; to barter. 


Tawis, that allows itself 






Sir.7:-f, s?c.-:o?i. 







54 



aLOSS.lRY. 



pcacealbj to br. handled; 

spokiv of a horse, coze, S^-c. 
Teat, a small quantity. 
Tedding, Sfreciding after the 

mower. 
Tenhours-hite, a sli<rht feed 

to the horses ichile in the 

yoke, in the forennon. 
Tent, afield pulp It, heed, cau- 
tion; tc take hrcd. 
Tntie, heedful, cautious, 

wary. 
Tentless, heedless 
Te„gh, t',ni-h. 
ThaclJhatch; lliack an' rape, 

clothing, Jiccessaries. 
Thae, these. 
Thainiis, small gvt.^, fiddlc- 

slriwrs. 
Th'ivkJt, Ihavkcd. 
Therkit, thatched. 
Thcijither, together. 
Themsii, then:seloes. 
Thick, iutinnitp, familiar. 
Thierelcss, roll, dry spited; 

spoken of a pasoJi's de- 
meanour. 
Ti^ir, these. 
Thirl, to thrill. 
Thirl; d, thnlh'd, vihratrd. 
Tholr, to siiffir, to endure. 
Tkawe. a thaw; to thuw. 
Thuicless, slai.k, lazy. 
Tfirniig, 1hron<r; a crowd. 
Thrap/'lr, throat, loindpipe. 
Thraw, to sprain, to twist, to 

contradict. 
Thrawin, twisting, &c. 
Thrown, sprained, twisted, 

contra dirtcd,contradict:i on. 
Thrrap, to maintain hy dint 

of assertion. 
Threshin, thrashing. 
Thretren, thirteeyt. 
Tfiristle, thistle. 
Through, to go on with, to 

make out. 
Throuthcr, p'UtniU, confu- 

cedln. 



Thud, to make a loud inter 
ndttent noise; a blow pro- 
ducing a dull heavy sound 

Thunipit, Ihunipcd, 

l'i>ysel, ihxjsclf. 

TiiVt, to it. 

Tinuiier, timber. 

Timmer-propt, propped with 
timber. 

Tine, to lose. 

Tint, lost; tint the gate, lost 
the way. 

Tinkler, a tinker. ♦ 

Tip, a ram. 

Tipp/vce, tico pence. 

Tirl, to make a slight noise, 
to uncover. 

TurUn, vncorering 

Tithrr, the other. 

Tittle, to whisjKV. 

Tit tling, whisp rrivg. 

Tocher, marriage portion. 

Tod, a fox. 

Toddle, to totter like the walk 
of a child, 

Toddlin, tottering. 

Toom, empty. 

Taop, a ram. 

Tonn,a hamlet, n farm-house. 

Tout, the blast of a hum or 
trumpet, to blow a horn, 

7'(>«', a rcpr. 

'Towwond, a twelve-month. 
Touiie, rough, shaggy. 
Toy, a very old fashion of 

female head-dress. 
Toyte, to totter like old age. 
Trams, shafts. 
Tran sni ugrif'y" d, transmi- 

S- Kited, metamorphosed, 
Tnishtrie, trash. 
Tmrs, trnwscrs. 
Trickle, full of tricks, play 

fnl. 
Trig, spruce, neat. 
yVinly, ctctllcntly. 
l\ow, to bclicre. 
"Preictfi, truth, a pttty oath' 





GLOSS^^RY. tS 


Trysted^ appointed; to tryste, 


TVae, woe, sorrowful. 


to make an ajipnintvicnt. 


IVacsvcks! or IVacsvie. clas! 


Tri/t^ tried. 


the pity. 


Tug, raw hide; of jchirh in 


Waft, the cross thread that 


old times plou^'h-traces 


goes frovi the shuttle 


were frequently made. 


through the web; tcvof. 


Tuhie, a quarrel; to quarrel, 


TVaifu', wailivg. 


to fight. 


Wair, to lay out, to expend. 


Twa, two. 


I*' ale, choice; to choose. 


Twa-thrce, a few. 


IVaVd, chose, chosen. 


' Tioad, it iDOuld. 


Walie, ample, large, jolly; 


Twal, twelve; twa] penny 


also an interjection of dis 


worth, a small quantity, a 


tress. 


pennyworth. 


IVame, the belly. 


'Twin, to part. 


Wamcfou, a belly full. 


TyU, a dog. 


Wamhancie, uidiicky, ill- 




omened, inauspicious. 


U. 


IVanrcstfu', restless, uneasy. 




V/ark, tsork. 


Unco^strange, uncouth, very, 


Wark-lumc, a tool to work 


very great, prodigious. 


with. 


Uncos, news. 


JVarl, or fVarll, world. 


Unfauld, unfold. 


Jf^arlock, a icizard. 


Unkenn d, unknown. 


JVarly, worldly, eager on 


Unsickcr, unsure, unsteady. 


amassing wealth. 


Unskaitk'd, undamaged, un- 


fVarran, a warrant; to icar^ 


hurt. 


rant. 


Unweeting, unwitting, un- 


Warst, worst. 


knowing. 


WarstVd, or TfarsVdy wres- 


Upo\ upon. 


tled. 


Urchin, a hedgehog. 


JVastrie, prodigality. 




Wat, wet; I wat, / wot, 1 


V. 


knoiD. 




Watcr-brose, brose marie of 


Vap^rin, vapouring, lully- 


weal and water simply, 


ing, bragging. 


icithout the addition of 


Vauntic, vain, proud. 


milk, butter, Sc. 


Vera, very. 


Wattle, a twig, a wand. 


Virl, a ring round a column. 


Wnuhle, to stiing, to reel. 


i,-c. 


7 Va light, draught. 




Waukit, thickened, as fullers 


W. 


do cloth. 




Wankrifc, not apt to sleep. 


Wa', wall. 


Waur, worse, to worst. 


mi's, walls. 


Wavr't, worsted. 


fVabster, a weaver. 


Wean, or Wcanie, a child 


Wad, would; to bet; a bet, a 


Wearie, or Weary; moiiie a 


pledge. 


weary body, many a dif 


tVadna, would not. « 


fercnt person. 







m GLOSSJIRY. 


JVeaton, josasavd. 


TFhittcr, a hearts draught of 


TFeaviiig the .stocking. Ssc 


liquor. 


tkrowin if the stocking. 


Whan-stare, a whinstone. 


pa^e U2. 


Whijles, whiles, sometimes. 


rree,' little. 


Wi', with. 


fVte things, little ones. 


Wick, to strike i- sto7ie in an 


IFcc bit, a small matter. 


oblique direction, a term in 


We.eL well. 


curling. 


tFedfare, loelfare. 


Wickir,'willow {the smaller 


fFei.t, rain, -wetness 


sort.) 


fVeird, fate. 


Widliffu\ wrathful, angry 


JVe'sc, we shall- 


raging; one deserving the 


IVha, u~ho. 


gallows. 


JVliaizle, to wheeze. 


Widdle, struggle, bustle, 


fVhalpit, whelped, broitght 


effort. 


forth. 


Will, a small whirlpool. 


TVhang, a leathern string, a 


JVifie, a diminutive or en- 


piece of cheese, bread, |c.; 


dearing term fur wife. 


to gine the strappado. 


Wilfu\ willing, full of will. 


fVhare, where. 


Willyart, bashful, reserved. 


TVhare'cr, wherever. 


liwi'l. 


JVhase, whose. 


Wimple, to meander, to run 


TVhutrcck, nevertheless. 


vciy ii-rrgularly. 


TVhaiip, the cnrlew, a kind of 


Wimpl't, meandered. 


wiite.r-foicl. 


Wimplin, waving, meander. 


Whcep, tojly nimbly, to jerk; 


ing. 


peniiy-wheep, small beer. 


Win, to icind, to winnow. 


Whid, the motion of a hare, 


Ifin't, winded as a bottom of 


running biitnot frighted; a 


yarn. 


lie. 


Wtn\ wind. 


Whidden, running as a hare 


Win's, winds. 


or coney. 


Winna, will not. 


Whigmclcerics, whims, fan- 


Winnock, a window. 


cies, crotchets. 


Winsome, hearty, vaunted^ 


Wliingin, crying, complain- 


gay. 


ing, fretting. 


Winile, a staggering motioni 


Whirligiguins, useless or- 


to stagger, to reel. 


naments, trifling appen- 


JFinze, an oath. 


d.iges. 


Wiss, to wish, to have a 


Whirr in', whirring; the 


strong desire. 


sound made by the flight of 


Withoutcn, without. 


the partridge, S,-c. 


JFitless, simple, easily im- 


Whisht, silence; to hold one's 


posed on. 


whisht, to be silent. 


Wizcn'd, hide-bound, dried. 


Wkxsk, to sweep, to lash. 


shrunk. 


Tiliiskin, lar^e, sweeping. 


Wonner, a wonder, a con- 


Whisldt, lashed. 


temptuous appellation. 


Wliissle, a whistle; to whistle. 


Wons, dwells, resides. 




f'0'?\ wool. 



GLOSSjIRY. 



Woo, to court, to make hve to. 

fVoddie, a rope, more proper- 
ly one made of withes or 
willows, a halter, a gal- 
lows. 

Wooer-hab, the garter knot- 
ted below the knee with a 
couple of loops. 

Wordy, worthy. 

Worset, worsted. 

Wow, an exclamation of 
pleasure or wonder. 

Wrack, to lease, to vex. 

Wrailii, a spirit, ghost; an 
apparition exactly like a 
liiung person, whose ap- 
pearance is said to forbade 
the person's approaching 
death. 

Wrung, icrong; to wrong, to 
injure, 

Wrceth, a drifted heap of 
snow. 

Writers, attorneys, lawyers. 

Wud-mad, distracted, wild. 

Wumhle, a whnnble, an in- 
strument for boring holes, 

Wyle, beguile. 

Wyliecoat, a flannel ve^t. 

Wyte, blame; to blame, to ac- 
evss. 



Ye; this pronoun is frequent- 
ly used for thou. 

Year, is used both for singu- 
lar and plural years. 

Yearlings, born in the same 
year, coivals. 

Yearns,, longs much, desires 
earnestly. 

Yell, barren, that gives no 
milk. 

Ycrk, to lash, to strike, to 
jerk. 

Yerk it, jerked, lashed, struck. 

Yestreen, yesternight, the 
night before. 

Ycti, a gate, such as is usual- 
ly at the entrance into a 
farm-yard or field. 

Yd I, ale. 

Yird, earth. 

Yokiti, yoking, a bout 

Yont, beyond. 

YovrscV , yourself. 

Yoice, an ewe. 

Yomie, dimin. ofyoUlt 

Yule, Christmaa. 



PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 



The following trifles are not the production 
of the poet, who, with all the advantag-es of 
learned art, and perhaps amid the eleg-ances 
and idleness of upper life, looks down for a 
rural theme, with an eye to Theocritus or Virgil, 
To the autlior of this, these and other celebrated 
names, their countrymen, are, at least in their 
original language, a fountain shut up, and a hook 
sealed. Unacquainted with the necessary requi- 
sites for commencing poet by rule, he sings the 
sentiments and manners he felt and saw in him- 
self, and his rustic compeers around him, in his 
and their native language. Though a rhymer 
from his earliest years, at least from the earliest 
impulses of tlie softer passions, it was not till 
very lately that the applause, perhaps the par- 
tiality of friendship, wakened his vanity so far 
as to make him think any thing of his worth 
showing; and none of the following works were 
composed with a view to the press. To amuse 
himself with the little creations of his own fancy, 
amid the toil and fatigues of a laborious life; to 
transcribe the various feelings, the loves, the 
griefs, the hopes, the fears, in his own breast; 
to find some kind of counterpoise to the strug 
gles of a world, always an alien scene, a task 
uncouth to the poetical mind — these were his 
motives for courting the muses, and in these he 
found Poetry to be its own re word. 



70 PRKF^ICK. 

Now that he appears in the public character 
of an author, he docs it with fear and trembling. 
So dcaris fame to the rhyming- tribe, that even he, 
an obscure, nameless bard, shrinks ag-hast at the 
tlioug"lit of beiiig" branded as — an impertinent 
blockhead, obtruding- his nonsense on the world} 
ur.d, because he can make a sliiftto jingle a few 
doggerel Scotch rhA^mes together, looking- upon 
ITuTiself as a poet of no sn^.all conscqvience for- 
sooth. 

It is an observation of that celebrated poet, 
Si'enstoiie, whose divine elegies do honour to 
our language, our nation, and our species, that 
^^ Humiliiy l^as depressed many a genius to a 
hermit, but never raised one to fame!" If any 
critic catclies at tlie word Genius, the author 
tells him, once for all, that he certainly looks 
upon liiniself as possessed of some poetic abilities, 
otherwise his publishing in the manner he has 
done, would be a manoeuvre below the worst 
character which, he hopes, his worst enemy will 
ever give liim. But to the genius of a llamsay, 
or the glorious dav/nings of the poor, unfor- 
tunate Ferguson, he, with equal unaffected sin- 
cerity, declares, that even in liis hig-hest pidse 
of vanity, he iias not the most distant ])reten- 
sinns. These two justly admired Scotcli poets 
he has often had in his eye in the following 
pieces; but rather with a view to kindle at their 
flame, than for servile imitation. 

To his subscribers, the author returns his most 
sincere thanks — not the mercenary bov^ over a 
counter, bnt the heart-throbbing gratitude of 
the bard, consciou-s how much he owes to bene- 
volence and friendship, for gratifying him, if he 
deserves it, in that dearest wish of every poetic 



PREF.1CE. n 



bosom — to be disting'irished. He bog's his read- 
ers, particularly the learned and the polite, who 
may honour h.im with a perusal, that they will 
make every allowance for education and circum- 
stances of life; but, if, after a fiur, candid, and 
impartial criticism, he shall stand convicted of 
dulness and nonsense, let him be done by as he 
would in that case do by others — let him be 
condemned, without m.ercy, to contempt and \ 

oblinon, I 



DEDICATION 

TO THE SECOKI) EDITION. 



to THE -SOELEMEN AND GENTL-E.MEK OF TKK CA'tEBON'lAN 
HUNT. 

JSfy Lords and Gentlemen.^ 

A Scottish barcl, proud of tlie name, and 
v.hose hig-hest ambition is to sing in his Coun- 
try's service — where shall he so properly look 
for patronage as to the illustrious names of his 
native Land? those v>'ho bear the honours and 
inherit the virtues of their Ancestors? The 
Poetic Genius of my Country found me, as the 
pi-oplieticbard Elijah did Elisha — at the Plough; 
and threw her inspiring- Mantle over me. She 
bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes 
and rural pleasures of my native soil, in my native 
tongue; 1 tuned my wild, artless notes, as she 
inspired. She whispered me to come to this 
ancient Metropolis of Caledonia, and lay my 
songs under your honoured protection. 

Tliough much indebted to your goodness, I 
do not approach you, my Lords and Gentlemen, 
in the usual style of dedication, to thank you 
for past favours. That path is so hackneyed 
by prostituted learning, that honest rusticity is 
asliamed of it. Nor do I present this address 
with the yenal soul of a servile Author, Jookin®- 
for a continuation of those favours: I wss bred 

Vox. L F j 



74 DEDICA TIOX. 

to the Plough, and am independent. I come to 
claim the common Scottish name with you, my 
illustrious countrymen; and to tell the world 
that I g-lory in the title. I come to congratulate 
my Country that the blood of her ancient heroes 
still runs uncont.aminated; and that from your 
courag-e, knowledg-e, and public spirit, she may 
expect protection, wealth and liberty. In the 
last place, I come to proffer my warmest wishes 
to the g"reat Fountain of honour, the Monarch 
of the Universe, for your welfare and happiness. 
When you g-o forth to waken the Echoes, in the 
ancient and favourite amusement of your fore- 
fathers, may Pleasure ever be of your party; and 
may social Joy await your return! When ha- 
rassed in courts or camps with the jostling-s of 
bad men and bad measures, may the honest 
consciousness of injured worth attend your re- 
turn to your native Seats; and may domestic 
Happiness, with a smiling- welcome, meet you 
at your g-ates ! May corruption sin-ink at your 
kindling', indig'nant g^lancc; and may tyranny in 
the Ruler, and licentiousness in the People, 
equally find you an inexorable foe! 

I have the honour to be, 
With the sincerest g-ratitude. 
And highest respect, 

Mv Lords and Gentlemen, 
Your most devoted humble Servant, 

ROBERT BURNS. 

Edinburgh,, 
Jipril 4, 1787. 



C H I E I I. Y SCOTTISH. 
Book I. 

MORAL, RELIGIOUS, AND PRECEPTIVB. 
TAR TWA DOGS 



'TwAS in that place o' Scotland's isle, 
Tliat bears the name o' Auld King Coil, 
Upon a boiiie clay in Jane, 
Wlien wearing thro' the afternoon, 
Twa flogs thafwere na Ihrang at hame, 
Forgalher'il ance upon a time. 

The first I'll name, they ca'd him Casar, 
Was keepit for his Honour's pleasure; 
His hair, his size, liis mouth, his lugs, 
Show'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs; 
But whalpil some place far abroad, 
Where sailors gang to fish for cod. 

His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar, 
Show'd him the genlieinan and scholar ; 
But tho' lie was o' high degree. 
The fient a pride nae pride had he ; 
But wad hae spent an hour caressin', 
Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gipsey's rnessin : 
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, 
Nae tauted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie, 
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him, 
And stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him 



F OEJtlS, 

The titlier was a plougliirian's colliEf- 
A rliyiniiig, raiiting, raving billie, 
VVJia for his friend an' coiiuade had hintij^ 
And in liis freaks had Luath ca'd hiin, 
After some dog in Highland sang,* 
Was made lang sj'ne — Lord knows liow laug 

Me was a gfvsh an' frxithAii tyke,. 
As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. 
His honest, sonsie,l)aws'nt face, 
AjTgal him friends in ilka place. 
His breast was wi:ite, his tou/.ie bacJs 
Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black; 
His gawcie tail, wi' upward curl, 
Hung o'er his hurdios wi' a swirl. 

Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither,. 
An' unco pack an' thick Ihegitiier ; 
Wi' social nose whyles siuilf 'd and snowkif, 
Whyles mice atid inoudieworts they howkitj 
Whyles scour'd awa in lang excursion, 
An' worry'd ithLr in diversion; 
Until v/V daffin weary grown, 
tJpon a, knov/e they sat them dov/n-, 
And there began a lang digression 
About the Lords o' tlie Cieation. 
C^SAR. 

I've aften wondered, honest Luath, 
What sort o' life poor dogs like you have; 
An' when the gentry's life I saw. 
What way poor bodies liv'd ava.' 

Our Lajrd gets in Ills racked rents, 
His coals, his kain, and a' his stents r 
He rises when lie likes himsel' ; 
His flunkies answer at the bell ; 
He ca's his coach, he ca's his horse ; 
He draws a bonie silken purse 
As lang's my tail, where, thro' the sleeks-, 
Tlie yellow-letter'd Geordie keeks. 

Frae rnorn ta e'en it's nought but toilingj 
At baking, roasting, frying, boiling ; 
An' tho' the gentry first are stechin, 
Yet e'en the ha' folk fill their pechin 
Wi' sauce, ragouts, and sic like trashtrie, 
"^^hat's little short o' downright wastrie. 

* CuthuUin's dog in Ossian^s FingasL 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 77 

Our Wliipper-in, wee blastit wonner, 
Poor worthless elf, it eats a dini.er, 
Better than ony tenant man 
His Honour has in a' the Ian' : 
An' wliat pnorcot-fo!k pit their painch in, 
I own its pat:t my comprehension. 
LUATH. 
Trowtli, Caspar, wliyles they're fashl enough , 
A cotter liowlvin in a shenah, 
Wi' dirty stanes begrin a dyke, 
Borina: a quarry, and sic like. 
Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, 
A smytrie o' wee diiddie weans, 
An' nought but his hand darg, to keep 
Them riglit and tight in tliack an' rape. 

As when they meet with sair disasters, 
Like loss o' liealth, or want o' masters, 
Ye maist wad think, a wee touch hin^r, 
An' they maun starve o' cauld an' hunger; 
But, how it comes, I never kenn'd yet, 
They're maistly wonderfu' contented ; 
An' buirdly chi'ds, and clever hizzies, 
Are bred in sic a way as this is. 
C^SAR. 

But then to see how ye're negleckit. 
How huff'd, and cufF'd, and di?rospeckit! 
L — d, man, our gentry care as little 
For delvcrs, ditchers, an' sic cattle ; 
They gang as saucy by poor fo:k. 
As I wad by a stinking brock. 

I've notic'd on our Laird's court-day, 
An' mony a time my Iieart's been wae. 
Poor tenant bodies, scant o" cash, 
How tliey maun thole a factor's snash : 
He'll stamp and threaten, curse and swear, 
He'll apprehend them, poind their gear ; 
While they maim stan', wi' aspect humble; 
An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble! 

I see how folks live that hae riches ; 
But suvely poor folk maun be wretches ? 
LUATH. 

They're nae sae wrctched's ane wad thinh^ 
Tho' constantly on poortith's brink : 
They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight, 
"Tlie view o't gies them little fright. 



POEMS, 

Tlien chance and fortune are s 
They're .iy in less o- mair provided ; 
An' thu' fatigu'd with close employnientir 
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. 

f he dearest comfort o' their lives, 
Their gruslne wertns an' fsithfu' wives ; 
The prattling things are just their pride, 
That s\7eetens a' their fae-side. 

An' \vhyles tvvalpennie worth o' nappj^ 
Can marke the bodies unco happy; 
They lay aside their private cares, 
To mind the kirk and state affairs ; 
They'll talk (f patronage aiid priests, 
Wi' kindling fury in their breasts, 
Or tell whaCnew taxation's coniin', 
An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. 

As 'deak-faced Hallowmas returns, 
They get the jovial, ranting kirns, 
When rural lifr, o' every station, 
Unite in common recreation : 
Love blinks, Wit slups, and social Mirt!^' 
Forgets tliere's Care upo' the earth. 

That merry day th° year begins, 
Tliey bar the door on frosty winds ; 
The nappy reeks wi' mantling rcany, 
An' slieds a heart-in?i>iring sluani ; 
The hintin pipe, an' sneeshiii mill, 
Are handed round wi' right gude vpill ; 
The cantie auld folks crackin crouse, 
The yoimg anes rantin thro' the house— 
My heart has been sae fain to see thenr, 
That I for joy liae barkit wi' them. 

Still its owre true that ye hae said, 
Sic game is now owrc aften play'd. 
There's nionie a creditable stock 
(T decent, lionest tawsont folk, 
Are riven out baith root and brancli, 
Some rascal's pridfii' greed to qnencli, 
Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster 
In favour wi' some gentle Master, 
Wha, aiblins, thrang a-parliami;ntin, 
For Britain's guid his saul indentiir-^ 
CiESAR. 

IJaiih, lad, ye little ken about it ; 
For H'-itahi's ffuid! guid faith ' I doubf f»; 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. t3 

Say, rather, gaiin as Premiers lead hir;^. 
An' sayinK aye or no''s tltey bid liiin: 
At operas aii' plays parading ; 
MorttaKiuti, gaiiiWiiiir, inasqueradirsg ; 
Or, may he, in a tVuiic daft. 
To Hague or Calais lakes a Waft } 
To make a tour, an' tak a tvliirl, 
To learn bon tonnn'' sec the worP, 

There, at Vienna or Vcrsaille$i 
He rives his father's auld entrails; 
Or hy Madrid he takes the rout, 
To thnini jxiiitars, and fecht wi' nowt; 
Or down Italian vista staitles, 
tVh-re-huriting among groves o' myrtles f 
Then bouses drunihly German wate? 
To mak hifnsel look fair and fatter, 
An' clear the consequential sorroTi'?, 
Love-gifis of Carnival signoras. 
For Britain's guid ! for her destruction ! 
Wi' dissipation, feu.i, an' faction. 

LUATH. 
Ilech man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate 
They waste f ae mony a braw estate I 
Are we sai foaghten an' harass'd 
For gear to gang thftt gate at last I 

O Would they sfay aback ftae conrtSj 
An' please themselves \\ i' countra sports, 
It wad for every ane he better, 
The Laird, ihe'Tenant, an' the Cotter! 
For ihae frank, rantin, ramblin billies, 
Fient haet o' them's i!l-hearted fellows? 
Except f(!r hreakin u' Ihcir limmer, 
Or speakin li;;iilly o' tiieir limmer, 
Or shooiin o' a hare or moorcock. 
The ne'er a bit tliey're ill to poor folk. 

But will you tell me, Master Cccsar^ 
Sine great folk's life's a life o' p'easuref 
Nae cauld or hunger e'er can steer them,- 
The vera thought o't need na fear them. 

C^SAR. 
L— d, man, wore ye but whyles whare 1 arn. 
The gentles ye wad ne'er envy "em. 

It's true, they need nne starve or sweat, 
Thto' winter's cauld or simmer'^ beni!, • 



80 rOKJilS, 

Tliey've nae sairwark to craze their banes, 
An' fill auld ngo \vi' grips an' granes : 
But liuinan bodies are sic fools, 
For if tlseir colleges and schools, 
Tliat when nae real ills perplex them, 
Tiiey make enow themsels to vex them ; 
An' ay the less tliey hae to sturt them. 
In like proportion less will hurt them. 
A country-fellow at the pleugh. 
His acres tili'd, he's right eneugh; 
A country girl at her wlicel, 
Her dizzen's done, she's unco weel : 
But Gentlemen, and Ladies warst, 
Wi' ev'n down want o' wark are curst. 
They loiter, lounging, lank, and lazy ; 
Tlio' dcil haet ails tliem,yct uneasy; 
Their days insipid, dull, an' tasteless ; 
Their nights unquiet, iang and restless: 
An' e'en tlieir sports, their balls, an' races, 
Their galloping thro' public places. 
There's sic parade, sic pomj), an' art, 
The joy can scarcely reach the heart. 
The men cast out i'.i party matches. 
Then sowther a' in deep debauches ; 
Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh-rings 
Niest day their life is past enduring. 
The ladies arm-in-arm in clusters. 
As great and gracious a' as sisters ; 
But hear their absent thouglits o' ither, 
They're a' run deils an' jades thegither. 
Whyles o'er the wee bit cup an' platie, 
Tliey sip the scandal potion pretty ; 
Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks 
Pore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks; 
Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard, 
An' cheat like ony unhang'd blackguard. 

There's some exception, man an' woman; 
But tliis is gentry's life in conmion. 

By this, the sun was out o' siglil. 
An' darker gloaming brought the night. 
Tiia biun-clock hnmm'd wi' lazy drone; 
The kye stood rowlin i' the loan : 
When 'upliipy gat, and shook their lugs, 
Rcjfiic'd they weie na men but doffs ; 
An' each tonk aff his several way, 
Resolv'd to meet sojiie itlicr day. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 
THE BRIGS OF AYK. ^ 

A POEM. 

Inacriled to J. B*********, Esq. ^Syr, 

The simple Bard, rough at tiie rustic plough, 

Learning iiis tuiienil trade from ev'ry bough ; 

The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush, 

Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush ; 

Tlie soarnig lark, tlie perching redbreast shrill, 

Or deep-ton'd plovers, gray, wild-whistling o'er the hill 

Shall he, nurst in the peasant's lowly shed, 

To haidy independence bravely bred, 

By early Poverty to hardship steel'd. 

And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field j 

Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes, 

The servile?, mercenary Swiss of rhymes'] 

Or labour hard the panegyric close. 

With all the venal soul of dedicating prose? 

No ! though his ariiess strairis he rudely sings. 

And throws his iiand uncoutlily o'er the strings 

He glows with all the spirit of ilie Bard, 

Fame, lionest fame, his great, his dear reward I 

Slill, if some patron's gen'rous caie he trace, 

Skill'd in the secret to bestow with grace ; 

When p.*v:*****-t f befriends liis in;mb!e name, 

And hands the rustic stranger up to fame. 

With heart-felt throes his grateful bosom swells, 

The god-like bliss, to give, alone excels. 



'Twas when the stacks get on their winler-hr.p. 
And thack and rape s«cure the toil-worn crap; 
Potato-bings are snugged up frae skaith 
Of coining Winter's biting, frosty breath ; 
The bees, rejoicing o'er tlicir summer toils, 
Unminibered buds an' fiowcrs' delicious spoils, 
Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles, 
Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the weak, 
The death o' devils smoor'd wi' brimstone reek ; 
The thiMifiering guns are heard on ev'ry side, 
The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide ; 
The fcather'd field-mates, bound by nature's tfe. 
Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage lie : 
(What warm, poetic heart, but inly bleeds. 
And execrates man's En\ .ngr, rutlilcss deeds !) 



Nae niair the fiow'r in field or meadow springs ; 
Nae mair the giove with airy concert rings, 
Except perhaps the Robin's whistling glee, 
Pro'.ui o' t'le height o' some bit half-Ian? tree ; 
The hoary morns precede the sunny days, 
Wild, calm, scroi'.e, wide spreads the noon-tide blaze, 
While tliick the <;ossamoiir waves wanton in the rays 
'Twas in that season, when a simple Rard, 
Unknown and | oor, simplicity's reward ; 
Ae ni'iht, witliin the ancient burgh of j9!jr, 
V.y whim inspired, or haply pressM wi' care: 
He left his bed, and took his wayward route. 
And down by 5«m?;.';o))'s*- wheel'd the left about: 
(Wheiiiur inipellcd by all-directing Fate, 
To wimr?s what I after shall narrate ; 
OrwhetJirr, rapt in meditiUion high, 
Tie wandered out he knew not where nor why:) 
The drow:ry Dun^ccn-clock] had numbered iwo, 
And fVallaca Tow'rf had sworn the fact was true: 
The tidvswoln Firth, with sulien-soundiug roar. 
Through the still nigh.t dashed hoarse along the shore; 
AH else was luish'd as nature's closed e'e ; 
The silent moon shone high o'er tow'r aud tree: 
The chilly frost, beneath the silver beam. 
Crept, gently-crusting, o'er the glittering stream- 
When lo : on either hand the list'ning Bard, 
The clanging sugh of whistling wings h(! heard; 
Two dusky forms dart thro' the midnight air. 
Swift as the Gosl drives on the wheeling hare ; 
Ane oi> th' ^ull Bi-in- his airy shape uprears, 
The ither flutters o'er the rishi^ piers: 
Our warlock rhymer instantly desnry'd 
The Sprites that owre the Bri(rs of .lyr preside. 
(That bards are second-sighted is nae joke, 
Aud ken the lingo o' the sp'ritual folk ; 
Fays, Spunkics, Kelpies, a', they ran explain them, 
And ev'n the vera deils they brawiy ken them.) 
.f]uhl Briir appear'd of ancient Tictish race, 
The vera wfinkles Gothic in his face: 
He .«eenied as he wi' Time had vvarsti'd lang, 
Yet teuchly doiire, he bade an unco bang. 
JVczc jBr/o-'was buskit in a braw new coat, 
That he, at Lon'on, frae ane .^hlams, got : 
In's hand five taper staves as smooth's a bead, 
Wi' virls an' whirlygigutrts at the head. 

* Jl noted tavern at the Aukl Brig end. T Tht tieo 

steeples. | The goshaicJ;^ or falcon. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 

TIiP Goth was ptalkiiia round with anxious search, 
Spying tfie time-worn flaws in cv'ry orcli ; 
It chanc'ci his new conic neebour tool? his e'e, 
And e'en a vex'd and angry licart had ne ! 
VVi' thieveiess sneer to see his n!0(iifh inion, 
He, down the water, gives him tliis guide'en :— 

AULD ERTG. 
I doul)t na, frien', ye'll think ye're nae slicep-shank 
Alice ye were streekit o'er from bank lo bank I 
But gin ye be a brig as aii!d as me, 
Tlio' faiih, that day I doulit ye'll never see; 
There'll be, if that date come, ['li wad a bodd'.e, 
Some fewer whignjeleeries in your noddle. 

NEW BRIG. 
Auld Vandal, ye but show your little mense, 
Just much about it wi' your scanty ssMise ; 
^V'ill your poor, narrow foot-paili of a street, 
Wlicr'e twa wheel-barrows tremble when tl;ey merf, 
Your ruin'd formless bulk o' stane an' lime. 
Compare wi' boiiie Bri^s o' modern lime? 
There's men ri' taste would take the Dtickal stream,'" 
Tlio' they should cast the very sark and swim, 
Ere they would grate (heir feeeli? ss ji' the view 
^ "sic an ugly, Gothic Isulk as you. 

AUlD erig. 
Concei'ed gowk: pufPd up wi' windy piide! 
This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide ; 
An' iho' wi' cra/yeild I'm sair forfairn, 
I'll he a Rritr^ wlien ye're a shafjeicss cairn! 
As yet ye little ken about the matter, 
l?ut twa-ihree winters will inform vou better. 
When heavy, dark, coiuiiaii;d a'-day rains, 
Wr deepening deluges o'erflow the plains; 
\Vhcn iVom the hiils where sprinirs the brawling Coil, 
Or stately r.ugar's mo-sy fountains boil, 
Or where the Greenock winds his nioorland course, 
Or haunted fJarjinlt draws his feeble source, 
Arous'd liy bhist'riiig wind.-!an' s{)ollirig thowes, 
In inanv a torrent down his sna'bioo rowcs 



* ..] uofiil ford just nhore the Au'd Brig. 

t The banks of Garpal Water i.f one of the few places in 
the wext of Scotland, trhcre Iho.-ie fancy- scaring beings, 
knovn In/ the name of Ghaisls, still continue periinacioutlt) 
to iuhdbh. 



84 POEMS, 

Wliile crashing ice, borne on tho roaring speal, 

Sweeps dams, an' mills-, an' bries, a' to llie gat,e; 

Anri from GlerJuicl:,'* down to Ibo Ratton-key,^ 

Aiiid ^yr is just one len<ill;en'd, liMiibliiifi sea ; 

Then down j^e'll hnrl— deil nor _ve never rise ! 

And dash the gnmlie jaups ap to the pouring skies: 

A lesson sadly teaclnn,?, to yov.r cost, 

That Architecture's noble art is lost ! ! 

NEW BRIG. j 

Fine .^rr.hitfictvre ! trowth, 1 needs must say'f o'l ! ! 

The L — d be thankit that we've tint the gate o't I j 

Gaunt, ghastly, 'gliaist-a!kirir<r edifices, j 

Hanging with threar'ning jut, like precipices; j 

O'er-arching, mon'dy, gloom-inspiiing coves, I 

Supporting roofs fantastic, sto!;y groves ; | 

Windows and doors, in nameless sculpture drest, i 

With order, symmetry, or inste, unblest ; | 

Forms like some bedlam-statuary's dream, j 

The craz'd creations of misguided wiiim ; j 
Forms might be worshipp'd on the iionded knee, i 

And still the second dread comvinvd be {'rec, > I 

Tlieir likeness is not found on earth., in air, or sea. ) i 
Mansions that would disgrace the building taste 

Of any mason reptile, bird or beast ; j 

Fit only for a doited Monkish race, j 

Or frosty maids, forsworn tlie dear endirace, | 

Or Cuifs of latter times, wha held llio notion j 

That sullen gloom was sterling, true devotion ; | 
Fancies that our guid Burgh denies protection. 
And soon may they expire, unbless'd with resurrection ! 

AULD BRIG. 
O ye, my dear-remember'd, ancient yealings, 
Were ye but here to share my wounded feeling-3! 
Ye wortliy Provpscs, an' rnony a Bnilic, 
Wha in tlie paths of righteousness did toil ay ; 
Ye dainty TJeacovs, and ye douce Cowccvtrs, 
To whom our moderns arc but causey-cli'aners ; 
Ye godly Councils wha hae b!ess'd this town ; 
Ye godly Brethren of the sacred gown, 
Wha meekly gae your hvrdies to the smitcrs; 
And (what would now be strauiie) ye ffoilbj zoritcrs: 
A' j'e douce folk Fve borne abdon the broo, 
Were ye but here, wliat would ye say or do 1 

* The source of the river .I'jr. f ,1 sinal! lanivf.g 

place above the lari^e key. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 85 

How would your spirits groan in deep vexation, 

To see each mclaaclioiy alteration ; 

And agonizing, curse the time and place 

Wiien ye begat the base, degen'raie race! 

Nae langer Ilev'rend Men, their country's giorj', 

In plain iiraid Scots hold forth a plain braid story, 

Nae langer thrifty Citizens, an' donco, 

Meet owre a pint, or in the Council-iioase ; 

But slaunirel, corivy-hcadcd, graceless gentry ; 

The lierryinent and ruin of the country ; ^ 

Men, three-parts made by Tailors and by Barbers, 

Wha waste your wlicel-haiu'dgear on d — d new Brigs and 

Harbours ! 

"NEW BRIG. 

Now baud you Ihsre ! for faith ye've paid enough. 
And niuckle niair tiian ye can make to through. 
As for your Priesthood, I sliail say but little, " 
Corbies and Clergij are a shot right Ivittle ; 
But under favour o' yotir iangi.T beard. 
Abase o' magistrates might wecl be spar'd: 
To liken them to your auid warld squad, 
I nmst needs say, comparisons are odd. 
In Jiijr, Wag-wits nae niair can hae a handle 
To moutii ' a Citizen,' a term o' scandal : 
Nae inair the Council waddles down tiie street, 
In all the pomp of ignorant conceit ; 
Men wha grew wise priggin ower hops an' raisins. 
Or gaiher'd lib'ral views in Bonds and Seisins. 
If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, 
Had siior'd them with a giininier ofhis hunp, 
And would to Coniinon-sense, for once betray'd Uiem, 
Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindiy in to aid theni. 



What farther c'ishniaclaver might been said, 
yVhat bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed. 
No man can tell ; but all before their sight, 
A fairy train anpear'd in order liright : 
Adown tlie glittering stream tiiey featly eanced ; 
Bright to the moon their various dresses glanced ; 
They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so nt^at. 
The int'ant ice scarce bent b;^neath their feet : 
While arts of nnnslrelsy among thoin junir, 
And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung. 
Ohad M^Lausr/Uan,* thairm-inspiringsage, 
Been there to hear this iioavenly band engnge, | 

When through his dear StruUispeys thoy bore vvii.!! High- ( 

land rage; 

* .i wdl kmicn pcrfarmer of Ty^tdsk mtisi,: an (ks violin 



3(5 FOEJJS, 

Oi when tlioy struck ol<l Scotia's melting airs, 
'J'lie lover's raptisr'il joys or jjlwdiug cares ; 

How would liis Ui;;'ila;i(l !;>- \':'v:i i\olilcr fir'd, 

And ev'n )iis :n;itciil,'r;: :;;.:;,! \y:[h ii;u;r tn\icli inspir'd 

No guf'ss could K'li w!;:;: >i. .)■}:,:■■:■: aiipear'd, 

But all Liie soul of Wu.-io s .-l-IT uUs licard ; 

Harmotiioiis concprt rung in every part, 

While siinpitt melody [jour'd moving on the heart. 

1 l>o Geriiiis ofti!/.' ^--^ r!':i ^:i r;;..:t appears, 
A -icn-iiiblcciii.'f a.h:,:V:, i i 3v:.::^; 
His ;:')a;-y n •ad \vi:'i w U'.' '; i - i lowa'd, 
Hisnmnly ]>■■; v,-\ih •^:^-\>'r-iv\-:< • !.oimd. 
r\cM. ca;iii' I'.r.- I'iVi :i -■ !;:i;i !;i :i.; ilie rin<;, 
Fw.'.'i !riii;i'!' '!ra:;iv- [<\ii'<\ !:, I.i;!(l with Spring ■ 
'i-hi'u c-rvii'd u'i;i, \h ■.y-; -. :■.:, r:i„ie Rural Jo' 

An-i-:;":'; i::': i' -'y, w;':' i^T iiou'jnji h(aii, 

I,;i{i y.-; , !; ;1 witii noddinj; corn ; 

'ihni \' .1 locks did hoary show 

I'y iio-'; , .1 , ■ ' ss hrovv. 

Next ibliow d ('oai;i::c w;!a liis niarli.U stride, 

I'roai where the F,ai wild-woody coverts hide; 

iJonevolence, with mild, benigna!!' air, 

A rcaia!:..' fo ni, " c:Mi\:: froiii the tow "rs of Stair; 

I.'arnih!: a.i.i wiu^'a in equal measuies Irode 

Fioia ri;:,i : ■ (■;;,■•,'■, tri'Mr long-Iov'd abode; 

I^a.-t, w!iae-rol>'d Feace, ciown'd with a hazel wreath, 

To rustic A^ricnltsire did bequeath 

The broken iron instrnnieatsof Deiuli ; 

Ai si^ht of wiiom oar Sarites for^nt their kindling wrath. 



THE VISION. 

DT'AN FIFST.f 

Ti!K s'.in had clos'(i tlie winter day, 
The curlers qual their roaring play, 

* The Pact liTc alludca to a Jtfrs. Str-wart, ichowas then 
in ■))ossrs!!ir,ii (.f Stiiir. She afterwards remoiicd to Jifton- 
lodge or. t>,-: hunks of the. Jifton, a stream which she subse- 
(juciif'lf rdnh'-.-L'.cd in n so 'iff entitled, '■'• Jifton IVater." — Ed. 

t llaaa, a icriii of Ossian'sforth^. different divisions of a 
di<rrnssivrpo::n. Sre Ms Caih T-oda.roi. ii. nf Macpherson s 
transl:>Aio-.i 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 87 

An' liunger'd maukin ta'en her way 

To kail-yards green, 
While faithless snavvs ilk step betray 

Whare she has been. 

The thrasher's weary Jlingin-tree 
The lee-lang day had tired me ; 
And when the day had clos'd his e'e, 

Far i' the west, 
Ben i' the spencc, right pensivelie, 

I gaed to rest. 

There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, 
I sat and ey'd the spewing reek, 
Tiiat fiU'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek, 

The auld clay biggin ; 
An' heard the restless rattons squeak 

About the riggin. 

All in this mottie, misty clime, 
I backward mus'd on wasted lime, 
How I bad spent my youtlifu' prime, 

An' done nae-thing, 
15ut stringin blethers up in rhyme, 

For fools to sing. 

Had I to uuid advice but harkit, 
I might, by this, hao led a market, 
Or slrulled in a bank ■•ni" claikit 

Mycasli account: 
VVliile here, half mad, half fed, lialf sarki 

Is a' th' amount. 

I started, mutt' ring, blockhead ! coof ! 
And iieav'd on high my waukit loof, 
To swear by a' yon starry roof, 

Or some rasli aith, 
Tiiat I henceforth would be a rhyme proof 
Till my last breath— 

When click ! the string the sneck did draw i 
And jee ! the door gaed to the wa' , 
An' by my ingle-lowe I saw, 

Now bleezin bright, 
A light, outlandish Hnzie, braw. 

Come full in sight. 

Ye need nae doubt, I held my whisht ; 
The infant aith, half-fornr'd was crusht ; 
I glow'rd as eerie's I'd been dusht, 
In some wild glen ; 



t-i ■ POEMS, 

When sweet, like modest Worth, she blushl, 
And sic;)pt,'d beu. 

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-homrhs 
Were twisted, gracefu', round her biows , 
I took her for some Scottisk muse, 

By that same token ; 
An' come to stop those recklesa vows, 

Wou'd soon been broken. 

A " hair-brain'd sentimental trace," 
Was strongly marked in her face ; 
A vviidiy-witty, rustic grace 

Shone full upon her ; 
Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, 

Beam'd keen with Honour. 

Down flow'd her robe, a Tartan sheen, 
Till half a leg was scrimpiy seen ; 
And such a leg I iny bonie Jean 

Coidd only peer it; 
Sae straught, sae taper, tight and clean, 
Nane else came near it. 

!Ier Jfantle large, of jjreeiiish hue, 
£Iy gazing wonder chiefly drew ; 
Deep lights and shades, "bold-miisgiliig, tJuew 

A h'Stre grand ; 
And seem'd, to my astonisli'd view, 

A well known land. 

Here, rivers in the Fca were lost ; 
f here, mountains to the skies were tost; 
Here, tumbling bilUnvs mark'd the coast, 

With surging foam ; 
There distant siionc Art's lofty boast, 
T!ie lordly dome. 

Here Boon pour'd down liis far-fetch*d floods, 
There, R'eli-fed //•j;27)fi stately thuds ; 
Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' "his woods, 

On to the sliore ; 
And many a lesser torrent scuds. 
With seeuiing roar. 

Low, in a sandy valley spread. 
Aw ancient Borough rcar'd her head ; 
Siill, as in Scottish story read. 

She boasts a Race, 
To ev'ry nobler virtue bred, 

Aa.ul poJish'd grace. 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. K) 

By stately. tow' r or palace fair, 
Or ruins pendant in the air, 
Bold stems of heroes, here and there, 

I could discern ; 
Some secm'd to muse, someseem'd to dare, 
With features stern. 

My heart did glowing transport feel, 
To see a Race* heroic wheel, 
And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel 

In sturdy blows; 
While back-recoiling secm'd to reel 

Their Southron foes. 

His Covntri/s Saviour,] mark him well ; 
Bold Rickardtoii' sX heroic swell ■ 
The chief on Snrk'^ wiio glorious fell, 

In high command ; 
And He whom ruthless Fates expel 

His native land. 

There, where a sceptr'd rictlsh sliiideii 
Stalk'd round its ashes lowly laid, 
I mark'd a martial race, portray'd 

In colours strong ; 

Bold, soldier-featur'd, updismay'd 

They strode along. 

Thro' many a wild romantic grove,^[ 
Near many a hermit-fancy'd cove, 
(Fit haunts for Friendship or for Love) 

In musing mood, 
An aged Judge, I saw him rove. 
Dispensing good. 

* The Wallaces. f William Wallace. 

X Jldam Wallace, of Rickardton, cousin to the ii.imorial 
preserver of Scottish Indcjyendcvcc. 

$ Wallace, laird of Cragic, who icas second in command, 
under Bouglas, earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the 
banks of Sark, fought amm H4S. 7'kat glorious victory 
was privcipalhj owing to the judicious conduct and intrciii'd 
valour of the gallant laird of Cragie, who died of his wounds 
after the action. 

II Coilus, king of the Picts, from whom the di.ttrict of 
Kyle IS said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, 
near the Samily-seat of the JMontgomeries of CoiCs-field 
lehere his burial-place is still shown. ' 

M Barslmiming, the scut of the late Lord Justice Clerk 

VOL. I. G 



m POEMS 

With deep-slruck reverential awe"" 
The learned Sire and Son I saw, 
To Nature's God and Nature's law 

Tliey gave their lore, 
This all its source and end to draw, 

That, to adore. 

Brijdor.e's bravo wardf I well could spy, 
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye, 
Wlio call'd on Fame, low standing by 

To hand him on, 
Where many a Patriot-name on high^ 

And hero shone. 



DUAN SECOND. 

With musing-deep, astonish'd star&j 
I viewed the licav'nly-seeming Fair; 
A wliisp'ritig throb did v^itness bear, 

Of liindred sweet, 
When, \v;.'.li an elder sister's air. 

She did nie greet. 

All liail ! my own inspir'd Bard ! 
In me thy native muse regard ! 
Nor lo'iger mourn thy fate is hard! 

Thus poorly low I 
I come to give tliee such reward 
A..S we bestow. 

" Know the great Genius of this land 
Has many a light aerial band. 
Who all beneath his liigh command. 

Harmoniously, 
As arts or arms they understand. 
Their labours ply. 

" They Scotia's race among them shard i 
Some fire the Soldier on to dare ; 
Some rouse the Patriot up to bare 

Corruption's lieart ; 
Some teach the Bard, a darling care, 

The tuneful art. 

* Catrinc, the seal of the late doctor^ and present profetitr 
Stewart. 
t Colonel Fullarton. 



CHfEFLY SCOTTISH. ^ 

" 'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, 
They ardent, kindling spirits pour; 
Or, mid the venal senate roar, 

They, sigluless, stand, 
To mend the honest Patriot-lore, 

And grace the land. 

" And when the bard, or hoary Sagej 
Charm or instruct the future age, 
They bind the wild poetic rage 

In energy, 
Or point the inconclusive page 

Full on the eye. 

" Hence Fullarton, the brave and young; 
Hence iJempster's zeal-inspired tonpue ; 
Hence sneet liarnionir us Bcaitie su^g 

His ' Minstrel laysj' 
Or tore, with noble ardour stung, 
Tlic Sceptic's bays. 

" To lower orders are assian'd 
The humbler ranks of humankind. 
The rustic Bard, the lab'ring Hind, 

The Artisan ; 
All e^ioose, as vaiious they're inclin'd. 

The various mtin. 

"When yellow waves the heavy {rrain^ 
The threat'ning storm sonse strongly rein, 
Some teach to meliorate the plain 

With tillage-skill ; 
And some instruct the shepherd train 

Blithe o'er the hill, 

" Some hint the lover's harmless wile ; 
Some grace the maiden's artless smile ; 
Some sooth the lab'rer's weary toil, 

For humble gains, 
And make his cottage-scenes beguile 
His cares and pains. 

" Some, bounded to a district-space. 
Explore at large man's infant race, 
To mark the embryotic trace 

O^Tiistic Bard; 
And careful note each op'niiig grace, 
A guide and guard. 

•' Gf these am f—Coila my name ; 
And this district as miue I claim. 



?2 . FOKMS. 

Where once the Cavipbells, chiefs of fame, 

Hold ;u!iug pow'r: 
I markM thy embryo tuneful flame, 

1'hy natal hour. 

" VViih future hope, I oft would gaze, 
Fund, on t!iy lilllo early waj's, 
Tliy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrascy 

In uncouth rhymes.; 
Fir'd at the simple rsrtless lays 

Of otiier times. 

" I saw tliee seek the sounding shore, 
Delighted with the dasiiing roar; 
Or wliei^ tlie North his tieecy store 
Drove thro' the sky, 
1 saw grim Nature's visage lioar, 

Struck thy young eye. 

" Or when tlie deep green-mantled earth 
Warmcherish'd ev'iy flow'ret's hiithy 
And joy and music pouring forth 

In ev'ry grove, 
I saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth 

With boundless love. 

" When ripen'd fields, and azure skieSj 
Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise, 
1 saw tliee leave th^ir ev'ning joys, 

And lonely s:alk. 
To vent thy bosom's swelling rise 

In pensive walk. 

" When youthful love, warm-blushing strong 
Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along, 
Those accents, grateful to thy tongue. 

Til' adored jYinne, 
I tauglit thee how to pour in song. 

To sooth thy flame. 

" I saw thy pulses maddening play, 
Wild send thee pleasure's devious way, 
Misled by fancy's meteor ray, 

By passion driven ; 
But yet the light that led astray 

Was light from heaven. 

" I taught tliy manners-}minting strains^ 
The loves, tlie ways of simple swains, 
Till now, o'er all my wide domains 
Thy fame extends: 



CIIiEFL r SCOTTISH. 

And sonif j the pride of Coila's plains, 
Become thy friends. 

"Tliou canst nol learn, nor can I show, 
To paint with Thompson's landscape glow , 
Or wake the bosoni-niclting throe, 

With Shensionc's art, 
Or pour with Gray, the moving flow 

Warm on the heart. 

" Yet all beneath the unrivalled rose, 
The lowly daisy sweetly blows ; 
Tho' large the forest's monarch throws 

His army shade, 
Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, 

Adovvn the glade. 

•' Then never murmur nor repine ; 
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine; 
And trust me, not Potosi's mine. 
Nor liing's regard. 
Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine, 
A rustic Bard. 

*' To give my counsels all in one. 
Thy '.uneful flame still careful fan ; 
Treserve the Ditrvity of Man, 

With soul erect; 
And trust, tho Universal Plan 

Will all protect. 

«' .Ind wear thou this /"—she solemn said, 
And bound the Holly round my head: 
The polish'd leaves, and berries red, 

Did rustling play ; 
And, like a passing thought, she fled 
In light away. 



THE COTTER'S SATURDAY J^IOHT. 

INSCRIBED TO R. A****, ESQ. 

Let not amhition mock their vseful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 

J^or grandeur hear^ with a disdaivfui smile. 
The short, but simple anjials of the jioor Grav 



94 POEMS, 

I. 
My \)v'd, my Iioiiour'd, much vespecled friend 1 

No nierceiiaiy Bard his homage pays ; 
With honest pride, I scorn each seifisli end, 

IMy dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise; 
To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, 

The iowlytrain in life's sequcster'd scene; 
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways; 

What A**** in a cottage would have been ; 
Ah : tho' his worth unknown, far happier tiiere, I wccn. 

11. 

N'ovember chill blaws loud wi' angry sngh , 

The short'ning winter-day is near a close; 
The miry lieapts retreating frae the pleugh ; 

The black'ning trains o' craws to their reposu; 
The toil-woi-n Cotter frac his labour goes. 

This nisht Ills weekly moil is at an end. 
Collects his spades, Ids mattocks, and his lioes, 

Hoping tlie morn in case and rest to spend, 
And weary o'er the moor his course docs liomeward leni 

in 

At if';i';lii \\U hx.v iv rot r-ii!>fais: in view, 

Bon.';! ^ ■ ' ■ ■ ' ' 'i iree; 

Th' i'.\,i . .1, stacher thro' 

To i.'ii ; ( i:. ' , /! in noise an' glee 

His wee hit ingie, bli-.iki;) honiiy, 

Tlis clean hearth-s'ane, his thrifiio wtfie's smile, 
The lisping infant prattiing on his kue.e, 

Does a' his weaiy caiking cares beguil.''. 
An' makes him quite forget his labour and his toil 

IV. 
Be'yve tiio eldar bairns crcnedrappin in, 

At service out, aniang the farmers roan' ; 
Some ca' the p'c'.i^h, s^r.ie herd, soni'j teniie rin 

A cannie errand lo a necljur town ; 
Their eldest ho))e, lii>-lr .T,:ini[t, wunian grown. 

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, 
Comes hanie, perhaps, to sliow a braw now gown, 

Or depnsite her sair-won psnny-fee. 
To help her parents dear, if they in irardship be. 

V. 

Wi' joy unrei;rn'd brothers and sislers meet, 
An' each for other's weliare kindly spiers; 

The socia' hours, swift-w!n',''(l, unu!)liced fleet; 
Each tells the uncos tliat he soos or Ijears; 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 93 

The parents, paiti;il, eye their hopeful year?; 

Anticipation forward points the view, 
The mother wi' her needle aji' her sheers, 

Gars aiild claes look amaist as weel's the new ; 
The Father, mixes a' wi' admonition due, 

vr. 

Their master's an' their mistress's command, 

The younkers a' are warned to obey ; 
' An' mind their labours wi' an eydcnt hand, 

An' ne'er, tlio' out o' sialit, to jauk or play: 
An' O ! be sure to fear the Lord ahvay ! 

An' mind your fluty, duly, morn an' night! 
Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 

/mplore his counsel and assisting nii<rht: 
They never Bought in vain, that sought the Lo:d aright!" 

VIL 
But hark ! a rap conges gently to the door ; 

Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, 
Tells liow a neebor lad came o'er the moor. 

To do some errands, and convoy her liame 
Tlic wily mother sees tlse conscious flame 

Sparkle in Jeuny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 
Willi heart-struck" anxious care, inquires his name, 

While Jevm/ hafflins is afraid to speak ; 
VVeel pleas'd the mother hoars, it's nae wild, worthless rake 

VI n. 

W'V kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben; 

A straiipan youth ; he takes the mother's eye , 
Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father crac!is of horses, pleughs, and kye. 
The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy. 

But blate an' laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; 
Tiie mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 

What makes the youth sae baslifu' an' sae grave ; 
IVeel pleas'd to tliiiik her bairn''s respected like the lave. 

IX. 
O happy love ! where love like tiiis is found ; 

O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare! 
I've paced mucli this weary, mortal rouvd, 

And sage crpcrimce bids me this declare — 
" If fleaven a dran'j;!!t of heavenly pleasure spai-e. 

One cordial in tliis melancholy va'e, 
'Tis when a youthful, loviti;», n>odest nair, 

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents iIk; cv'ning ^ala. 



9:5 POEMS, 

X. 
Is liiern, in iiuir.aTi fnim, that bears a iieart— 

A \vi!;tcli 1 a viUaiu! lost lo love and truth ! 
That can, with studitul, s!y, ensnaring art, 

13elr;iy sweet ./.•'?ir.'/.-; uii^i'.spcciin^ youth? 
Curse on Iiis? i)e!"jiirM arts I disseiiibliiii; smooth! 

Are honour, virtue, cons^ciersce, a!) exil'd ? 
Is tlicre no pity, no relenliaj! ruth, 

Points to the parents fondling o'er their cliild? 
Then paints tlie ruinVl maiil, and their distraction wild ! 

xr. 

But now the supper crowns t.lieir simple board ! 

The halesoine vnrritrh. ci'.u'f o' Snotin's food; 
The soup tlicir (r : alford, 

Tliat'yo'ii ;!!(■ i rliow.s liercnd: 

The dame l)'ii;c-; :';,::! ,'!;nnital mood. 

To urace tlie lad, lur w:- : lini'iM krli!)ii('k tell, 
An' af! lie's press'd, ao' ail !.!■ ci^s ii -i.r.d ; 

The fruKal wide garrii'n.is wi.i h'li, 
How 'thus a towsiiotiii [iwld, si:i' !:iil was i' tlic bell. 

XIT. 
The cheurfii' supper done, \vi' serfons faro, 

They, round Mie in>r!f\ firm a circle wide; 
The sire turtis o'er, v/i' nniiinvclial crace. 

The i)i2 U:>:-lh!:- , :a;!iers pride; 

His hoiKK't rfv'n ;, ,; •, 

His iyarlliaf^l'is ■ .-i' !.:i;-p ; 

Those strains thai ■ /'.ion glide, 

He wal(.>s a po'J. aie ; 

Ami''- J M us wnr< with solemn air. 

XI 1 L 
They clinnt tlvir artless notes in simple Ruise, 

TlifV tiii'.v ;i'"ir Ii: ;i-'-, hy fnr the noblest aim; 
Perh;i]i- ninir:'--: ■.\Va\ wa'rMinL' measure's rise, 

Or plniii'iv'' M n-'yr^. wo;! hy of the name; 
Or n'il)!i' ]\i<rin heats the iit'av'nvvard flame, 

Thi- swiM'ics! far of Scotia's holy lays : 
Coinp:u'i! wiiii these, Iiji'ian trills are lame; 

The licklrd e;iis no heart-fei! raptures raise, 
Nae unison hue they wiih our fJrealor's prais'3. 

XIV. 
Tiie piiest-Iike father rends the sacred pa?e, 

How Jlbrain was \\wfriniil of God on higSi ; 
Or, 3l>sc!i bade eten.al warfare wriL'e 

\Vilh Siinalck's U!i<rracious proj;eiiy ; 



CHIEFI. Y SCO TTISH. m 

Or, limv the roynl Bard did poaniiig lie 
Beneath tlie stroke of Heaven's avenging ire, 

Or, Job's pathetic jilaint, and wailing cry; 
Or, rapt Isainh's wild seraphic fire; 

Or other holy seers that tunc tlie sacred lyre. 

XV. 

Perhaps the Christinn vnlnmf is the theme, 

How guiltless blood for pnilty man was shed ; 
How //e, wlio hore in lieav'n tlie second name, 

Had not on earth wliereon to lay liis liead : 
How His first followers and servaiits sped ; 

'J'lie precepts sage ihey wrote lo many a land: 
How he, wlio lone in Pa'tmos banished. 

Saw in tlie sun a mit'Iity anre! stniid : 
And heard great Bah'lon'f- doom ]):or.nunced liy Heavcn'i 

command. 

XVT. 
Then kneeling down, to heaven's eternal Kinjr, 

The saivt, X\w. fathrr, and the Imshavi! pravs: 
Hope " springs exiilliML' on triinnphant winir,"* 

That tints tiiey all .*!;.i!l meet in fillure days : 
There, ever i)nsk in nm r<aled rays, 

No more to sig!i, or shed l!ie hitter lent, 
Together hymning their Crrntnr'a praise, 

In snch society, yet still more dear ; 
While circling time moves round in an eternal spnere 

XVIT. 
Compar'd with this, how poor Re!ii:ioii's pride, 

In all the pomp of method, and of art, 
When men display to congregations wide. 

Devotion's ev'ry jrrace except the hrart ! 
Tl)e Poio'r incens'd, the pageant will desert, 

The pompons strain, tlie sacerdotal .stole ; 
But haply, in some cottnffe far apait, 

May hear, well pleas'd, tlie langiia-rc of the soul 
And in his book nf life the inmates jioor enrol. 

XVIII. 

Then lioneward all take offiheir sev'ral way; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest ; 
The parent-pair their srcret homage pay, 

And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, 
That He who stills tlie raven's clam'rous nest, 

* Pope's irindsor Forest. 



§S POEMS, 

And decks tl)» I'Jy fiiir in flow'ry pridq, 
Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best, 

For tliern and for their llule ones provide, 
But chiefly in their iiearts with grace divine preside. 

XIX. 

From scenes like these old Scotia^s grandeur springs, 

That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad ; 
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 

" An honest man's the noblest work of God ;" 
And certes in fair virtufi's heav'niy road, 

The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; 
What is a lordiing's pomp? a cumbrous load, 

Disguising of tlio wretch of human-kind, 
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd ! 

XX. 

O Scotia! my ucnr, my native soil ! 

For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent, 
Long may the hardy sons of rustic toil, 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content.' 
And, O ! may heaven their simple lives prevent 

From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 
Then, howe'er croions and coronets be rent, 

A virtuous populace may rise the wiiile, 
And stand a wall of fire around their nmch-lov'd Isle. 

XXI. 

O Thou! who ponr'd the patriotic tide 

That stream'd thru' Jf^allnce's undaunted heart ; 
Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride. 

Or nobly die, the second gkirious part, 
(The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, 

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) 
O never, never Scotia^ s realm desert ; 

But still the patriot and the patriot lard. 
In bright succession rise, her ornament and guard ! 



FERSES 

WRITTEN IN FRIAR'sCARSK IIERMITAaK, ON NITH BID! 

Tiiou whom cliance may hillier lead, 
Re tlion clad in russet weed. 
Be thou decked in silken stole. 
Grave these counsels on thy soul— 




SMA]D)]E§ ©F E^^^EMIHG 



, CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 99 

Life is but a day at most, 
Sprung from iiiglit, in darkness lost; 
Hope not sunsliine ev'ry hour, 
Fear i;ol clouds will always iow'r. 

As youth and love, with sprightly dance, 
rJent-aiii thy luorninc star advance, 
Ploasure with her siren air 
JVIay dehide tiie tiiouglitless pair; 
Lot prudence bless enjoyment's cup, 
Then raptur'd sip, and sip it up. 

As thy day grows warm and high, 
Life's meridian flaming nigh. 
Dost thou spurn the humble vale ? 
Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale? 
Check thy climbing step, elate, 
Evils lurk in felon wait ; 
Dangers, eaglf-pinion'd, bo^d. 
Soar ariiinid each clitfy hold. 
While cheerful peace, with linnet song, 
Clianta tlie lowly dells among. 

As the sl'.ades of evening close, 
Beck'ning thee to Ions repo?e ; 
As life itself becomes disease, 
Seek the chimney-neuk of ease : 
There nuninate with sober thought. 
On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought, 
And leach the sportive youiikers round, 
Laws of experience, sage and sound. 
Say, Man's true, genuine, estimate, 
Tiie grand criterion of his fate, 
Is nut, an thou liigh or low ? 
Did thy fortune ebb or flow ? 
Did many talents gild the span? 
Or frugal nature grud<re thee one? 
Tell them, and press it on their minc^, 
As thou thyself nmst shortly find. 
The smile or frown of nwful lieav'n, 
To virtue or to vice is giv'n. 
Say, to be just, and kind, and wise, 
There solid self-enjoyment lies ; 
That foolish, selfish, faithless ways, 
Lead to the wretched, vile, and base. 

Thus resign'd and quiet, creep 
To the bed of lasting sleep ; 
Sleep, whence thou shall ne'er awake, 
Nish't T-'^jo'o d""™ "!;rJ! nrv.?r break, 



100 POEMS, 

Till future liff;, future no more, ^ 
To light and joy the good restore, > 
To light and joy unknown before! ) 

Stranger, go ! Ileav'n he thy guide 
Quod the Beadsman of Nithside. 



Jl PRAYER, 

UNDER THE PRESSITRE OF VIOLENT ANOUI8E3 

O THOU great Being! what thou art 

Surpasses me to know ; 
Yet sure I am, that known to Tliee 

Are all thy works below. 

Tliy creature here before Thee stands, 

All wretched and distrest ; 
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul 

Obey thy higli behest. 

Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act 

From cruelty or wrath ! 
O, free my weary eyes from tears. 

Or, close them fast in death ! 

But if I must afflicted be, 

To suit some wise design ; 
Then man my soul with firm resolves 

To bear and not repine ! 



A PRAYER, 

IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. 

I. 

O THOU, unknown, Almiglity Cause 

Of all my hope and fear ! 
In whose dread presence, ere an hour. 

Perhaps I musi appear ! 
II. 
If T have wander"d in those paths 

Of lifelouffht toshiin : 
As something, loudly in my breast. 

Remonstrates I have done ; 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 101 

III. 

Tliou know'st lliat Thou liast formed me 

Will) passions wild and stioiig; 
And list'iiing to their witching voice 

lJ;is of'u;ii led me wrong. 

IV. 

Where iuimah weakness has co^.ie short. 

Or frailty stf^iit aside, 
Do 'I'hoti, .'lU good! for such Thoii art, 

In shades of darkness hide. 
V 
Where whh intention I have err'd, 

No other plea 1 have, 
felt, Tkou art good; and goodness stiil 

Deli/htelli to foijiive. 



ST.^J^Z.iS 

ON THE SAMK OCCASION 



Why a)n I loatli to leave iJiis eartlily scene? 

Have I so found it full of pleasing eliarins? 
Some drops of joy uilh draughts of ill between; 

Some gieama of sunshine mid renesving storiJiS" : 
Is ii de|>arliMg ^)angs my sou! alarms ? 

Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode 1 
For guill, for cuilt, u)y terrors are in arms; 

1 tremble to ajiproach an angry Gcd, 
And justly smart beneath iiis sin-aveiiging rod. 

II. 
Fain would I saj', " Forgive n-.y foul offimce :" 

Fain promise never more to disobey: 
Bui, should my Author health again dispense, 

Again I miL'ht desert lair virtue's way: 
Again in folly's |);itli might go astiay ; 

Auaiu exalt tiie brute and sink the man ; 
Then how should i for iicavcnly mercy pray. 

Who act so eoiuiter heavenly merry's plan ? 
Who siu so ol'l have monin'd, yet to lentptation jant 

III. 
O Thou, great Governor of .'il! below 

If I may d;ire a lifted eye to 'I'hee 



102 rOEMS, 

Thy nod can in:ik!; the tctTipest cease to blow, 
Or still the tumult of the raging sea; 

With that cc)utn)llin<T pow'r assist ev'n me, 
Those headioiis!, furious passions to confine; 

For all untit I feel my powers fo be, 

To rule their torrent in th' allowed line; 

O, aid ma with thy help, Omnipotence Divine! 



VERSES, 

LKfT BY THK ADTIIOU, AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HO0SB, 

IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT. 

I. 

O THOU, dread Pow'r, wlio reign'st above ; 

I know thou wilt mo hear : 
When for this scene of peace and love, 

I make my pray'r sincere. 
II. 
The lioary sire — the mortal stroke, 

Lonfj, loiiii, be pleas'd to spare ! 
To bless his little filial flock, 

And show what good men are. 
III. 
She, who her lovely offspring eyes 

Witli tender hopes and fears, 
O bless her with a mother's joys, 

But spare a mother's tears ! 
IV. 
Tiieir hope, tlieir stay, th.iir darling youth ; 

In manhood's dawning blush ; 
Bless him, thou God of love and truth, 

Up to a parent's wish ! 
V. 
The beauteous, seraph sister-band, 

With earnest tears I pray, 
Thou knowest the snares on ev'ry Iiand, 

Guide Thou their steps alway ! 
VI. 
When soon or late they reacli that coast, 

O'er life's rough ocean driv'n, 
May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, 

A family in heav'n 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTfSH. 103 

A GRACE BEFORE DINNER. 
O Tiiou, who kindly dost provide 

For every creature's want ! 
We bless tliee, God of Nature wide. 

For all thy goodness lent: 

And if it please thee, heavenly Guide, 

May never worse be sent ; 
But whether granted or denied, 

Lord bless us with content ! 

Amen. 



THE FIRST PSALM. 

The man in life, wherever plac'd, 

Hath liappiness in store. 
Who walks not in the wicked's way, 

Nor learns their guilty lore 1 

Nor from the seat of scornful pride 
Casts forth his eyes abroad, 

But with Immility aa' awe 
Still walks before his God. 

That man shall flourish like the trees 

Which 1)V the streamlets grow; 
The fruitfii! top is spread on high, 

And tiiiii the roul below. 
But he whose blossom buds in guill, 

Shall to the uround be cast, 
And like the rootless stubble, tost 

Before the sweeping Wast. 

For why 1 Tliat God, the good adore, 
Hath giv'n them peace and rest. 

But hath decreed that wicked men 
Shall ne'er be truly blest. 



THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE J^LYETIETU . 

'" PSALM I 

O THOU, the first, the greatest Friend 

Of all the human race! 
Whose strong right hand has ever been 

Their stay and dwelling place ! 



104 POEM 3 

Before the mountriln« heav'd tinjir heads 

Beneath thy IbrniH.g hand, 
Before this pond'roas globe itself 

Arose at thy command ; 

That Pow'r which rats'd and still upho^da 

Tliia iiinversal frame, 
From couiulcss, unbegiiiaing time, 

Was ever still the same. 

Those miglity periods of years 

Whicii seem to us so vast, 
Appear no more before thy sight 

Than yesterday thtit's past. 

Thou giv'et the word— Thy creature, maw, 

Is to existence biought ; 
Again thou sayest, " ¥e sons of mcn^ 

Return ye into nought !" 

Thou layest them, with all their cares, 

In everlasting sleep ; 
As with a flood Thou tak'st them oflT 

With overwhelming sweep. 

They flourish like the morning flow'r. 

In beauty's pride array'd ; 
Bui long ere night, cut down, it lies 

All wither'd and decay'd. 



EPISTLE TO A YOUKQ FRIEND. 
I. 

I LANo hae thought, my youthfu' friend, 

A something to have sent you, 
Tho' it should serve no other end 

Than just a kind memento; 
But how the subject-theme may gang. 

Let time and chance determine ; 
Perhaps it may turn out a sang, 

Perhaps turn out a sermon. 
II. 
Ye'll try the world soon, my lad, 

And Jlnilrcw dear, believe me, 
Ye'li find mankind an unco squad. 

And muckle they may grieve ye! 
For care and troidile set your thought^ 

Ev'n when yoiir end's attained; 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 105 

And a' your views may come to noughl, 
When ev'ry nerve is strained. 

111. 

ril no say men are villains a' ; 

The real, liarden'd wicked, 
Wha hae nae clieck but human law, 

Are to a few rcstricked — 
But och ! mankind are unco weak, 

An' little to be trusted ; 
If scf/lhe wavering balance shake 

[I's rarely rlgiu adjusted ! 

IV. 

Yet tliey wlia fa' in fortune's strife, 

Their fate we should na censure, 
For still th' important end of life, 

'riiey equally may answer ; 
A man may hae an lioncst heart, 

Tho' poortiih hourly stare him ; 
A man may tak a neebor's part. 

Yet hae na cash to spare him. 



Ay free, affiian', j'our atory tell, 

When wi' a bosom crony ; 
But still keep something to yoursel, 

Ye'll scarcely tell to oiiy. 
Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can, 

Frae critical dii-section ; 
But keek thro' ev'ry other man, 

Wi' sharpen'd sly inspection. 

VI. 

The sacred lowe o' weel-placed love, 

Luxuriantly indulge it ; 
But never tempt th' illicit rove, 

Tho' naething should divulge it ; 
1 waive the quantum o' the sin. 

The hazard o' concealing ; 

But och ! it hardens a' witliin, 

And petrifies the feeling ! 

VII. 

To catch dame Fortune's golden smHe* 

Assiduous wait upon her; 
And gather gear by ev'ry wile 
That's justified by honour- 
Voi.. I. H 



106 POEMS. 

Not for to hide it in a hedge, 

Nor for a train-attendant, 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being independe7it. 

VIII. 

The fear o-' helPs a hangn>an's whip 

To haud the wretch in order- 
But where ye feel your honour grip. 

Let that ay be your border ; 
It's slightest touches, instant pause — 

Debar a' side pretences ; 
And resolutely keep its taws, 

Uncaring consequeaaes. 

IX. 

The great Creator to revere, 

Must sure become il:e creature; 
But still the preacliing cant forbear, 

And ev'n the rigid feature ; 
Yet ne'er with wits profane to range,, 

Be complaisance extended ; 
An atheist's laugh's a poor exchange 

For Deity offended! 

X. 

When ranting round in pleasure's ring 

Religion may be blinded ; 
Or, if she gie a random sing, 

It may be little minded; 
But when on life we're tempest drlv'a 

A conscience but a canker — 
A correspondence fix'd wi' Ileav'n^ 

Is sure a nobler anchor '. 

XL 

Adieu, dear, amiable youth ! 

Your heart can ne'er be wanting; 
May prudence, fortitude, and truth, 

Erect your brow undaunting! 
In ploughman phrase, " Gad send you 

Still daily to grow wiser ; 
And may you better reck the reds 

Thau ever did th' advises ! 

May, 178C. 



Book IK. 

PATHETIC, ELEGIAC, AXD nESCRIPTIVB 



J^rJ^^r ivas jVjdk re mour.v 

I. 

Whkn ciiiil Noveniliei's smly bla^ii 

M;id<.' ftt'ld-.; and fcif^sis liaie, 
One fv'ninj;, as 1 wandei'd forih 

Aloii? xl;e banks of .-.'j/r, 
I spy'd a man, whose V\u.i:A slop 

Seem'd wcarj- worn wit.'j c;ate ; 
{lis face was fuViowM o'( r with ycats, 

And lioary was his Jinir. 

U, 
Youna; stiansier, wliiilii'i- waturresl Ihou? 

(Began the rev'rond sa^e :) 
Does thirst of wcalili thy step constrain, 

Or ynutlifiil pleasure's r.vzo 1 
Or hapiy, presl with cans and wfies, 

Too scon 'tlioti has! ho<s:\r\ 
To wander forth, wiiii-ine, to nioiU'R 

The miseries of man : 

in. 

The sun lliat overhangs yon inoors, 

Ont-sprending; far and wide, 
Where hnndreds laljonr to snpporl 

A iiaugiity lordhn^i's pride ; 
I've seen yon weary winter sub 

Twice forty times return ; 
And ev'ry time has added proofs, 

Thai man was made to mourn. 



O man ! while in tiiy early years. 

How prodigal of lini' ! 
Mispendinn; all thy prcrions hours, 

Tliy glorious yoatkfw! priwie'. 



109 POEMti, 

Alternate follies take the sway ; 

Licentious passions burn ; 
Which tenfold force gives Nature's law 

That man was made to mourn. 

V. 
Look not alone on youthful prime 

Or manhnod's active might ; 
Man then is useful to his kind, 

Supported in his rifjlit ; 
But see him on the edge of life, 

With cares and sorrows worn, 
Then age and want, oh ! ill matched pair ! 

Show man was made to mourn. 
VI. 
A few seem favourites of Fate, 

In Pleasure's lap carest ; 
Yet, think not all the rich and great 

Are likewise truly blest. 
But oh ! what crowds in every land, 

Are wretched and forlorn ; 
Thro' weary life this lesson learn, 

Tliat man was made to mourn. 
VH. 
Many and sharp the num'rous ills 

Inwoven with our frame ! 
More pointed still we make ourselves 

Regret, remorse, and shame! 
And man, whose heav'n-erccted face 

The smiles of love adorn, 
Man's inhumanity to man 

Makes countless thousands mourn. 
VIIL 
See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight. 

So abject, mean and vile, 
Who begs a brother of the earth, 

To give him leave to toil ; 
And see his \oy^\y frllow-worm 

The poor petition simrn, 
Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife 

And helpless offspring mourn. 

IX, 

If I'm dosign'd yon lonlliiic's slave — 

By Nature's law desiun'd ; 
Why was an indepeiuicut wish 

E'er planted in my miii;i7 



CnrKFLY SCOTTIS:i. 

\f not, why am I subject to 

His cruelty, or scorn ? 
Or wliy has man the will and pow'? 

To make his fellow mourn ? 



Yet, let not this too much, my son 

Disturb thy youtliful bre.ist; 
This partial view of human kind 

Is surely not the last! 
The poor, o^iprcsse<l, honest ma:», 

Had never, sure, been born. 
Had tliere not been some recompense 

To comfort those that mourn. 

XI. 

O death '. the poor man's dearest friend \ 

The kindest an< tiie best ! 
Welcome the hour my aged limbs 

Are laid with tliee at rest I 
The great, the wealthy, fear lliy blow 

From pomp and pleasure torn ; 
But, oh — a blest relief to those 

That weary-laden mourn ! 



A WINTER NIGHT. 

Poor naked wretches, ickercsoe'cr you arc. 
That hide the pelthifr of this pililcss storm I 

I/ow shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides^ 
Your loop'd and uiindow^d raggedness, defend you 

From seasons such as these ! — ShakspkarB 

When biting Boreas fell ai>d doure, 
Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r ; 
When rhmbus gies a short-liv'd glow'r 

Far south the lift, 
Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r. 

Or whirlin drift ! 

Ae night the storm the steepfes rock'd, 
P )or Labour sweet in sleep wa^ locked, 
While burns, wi' snawy wreaths up-chocked| 

Wild-eddying swirl, 
Or ttro' Uie mining outlet bocked, 

Down headlong hurt. 



110 POEMS 

List'iiin^, the doors an' winnocks rattle, 
I thought me on the ourie cattle, 
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle 

O' winter war, 
Arid thro' the drift, deep-lairing sprattle, 

Beneath a scar. 
Ilk happing bird, wee helpless thing, 
That, in the merry months o' spring, 
Delighted me to hear thee sing. 

What cnmes o' thee t 
Where wilt thou cow'r thy chitt'ring wing, 

An' close thy e'v.l 
Ev'n you on murd'rmg errands toil'd, 
Lone, from your savage homes exil'd. 
The blood-stained roost, and sheep-cote spoil' d, 

My lieart forgets, 
While pitiless the tempest wild, 

Sore on you heats. 
Now P/imbe, in her midnight reign, 
Dark muffled, vicw'd the dreary plain. 
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train, 

Rose in my soul, 
When on my ear this plaintive strain. 

Slow, solemn, ^ilole — 
"Blow, blow, ye winds, with lieaviergust I 
And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost ! 
Descend, ye chilly, sniothering snows ! ^ 

Not all your rage, as now united, show 
More hard unkindness, unrelenting, 
Vengeful malice, unrepenling. 
Than heaven-illumin'd man on brother man bcstowj I 

" See stern oppression's iron grip. 

Or mad Ambition's gory hand. 
Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip. 

Wo, want, and murder o'er a land . 

"Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale. 
Trutli, wee|)infr, tells the mournt'ul tale, 
How panijjei'd hixiiry, tTait'ry by her side. 

The parasite cnip jisriniiig her ear. 

With all the servile wietdies, in the rear, 
Look o'er proud properly extended wide, 

And eyes the simple rustic liirxl, 
Whose toil upholds the gh'lf ring show, 

A creature of anoiher kind, 

Some coarser substance, unnfiu'd, 
Plac'd for her lordly use tlius far, thus vile, below. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. Ill 

«♦ Where, where is love's fnnd, tender throe, 
VViti) lordly honour's lofty brow, 
The pow'rs you proudly own 1 
Is there, beneath love's noble name, 
Can harbour, dark, llie seltish aim, 

To bless liimself alone 1 
" Mark maiden-innocence a prey 

To love pretending snares. 
This boasted honour turns away, 
Shunning soft pity's rising sway. 
Regardless of the tears, and unavailing prayers! 
Perhaps, this hour, in mis'ry's squalid nest, 
She strains your infant to her joyless breast, 
And with a mother's fears shrieks at the rocking blast ! 
" O yel who, sunk in beds of down, 
Feel not a want but what yourselves create, 
Think for a moment on his wretched fate, 
Whom friends and fortune quite disown I 
111 satisfied keen nature's clam'rous call, 
Stretched on his straw, he lays himself to sleep. 
While thro' the ragged roof and chinky wall, 
Chill o'er his slumbers piles the drifiy heap I — 
Think on the dungeon's grim confine, 
Where guilt and poor misfortune pine ! 
Guilt, erring man, relenting view I 
But shall thy legal rage pursue 
The wretcii already crushed low 
By cruel fortune's undeserved blow ! 
Affliction's sons are brothers in distress, 
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss !" 
I heard nae mcir, for Chanticleer 

Shook off the pouthery snaw, 
And liail'd the morning with a cheer, 

A cottage rousing craw. 
But deep this truth impress'd my mind- 
Thro' all his woiks abroad, 
The heart, benevolent and kind, 
The most resembles GOD. 



WIKTER. 

A DIRGE. 
I. 

Thr wintry west extends his blast, 
And hail and rain does blaw ; 

Or, the stormy north sends driving forth 
The blinding sleel and snaw : 



Iia POEMS, 

Willie tumbling brown, the burn comes dbw«j 

And roars frae bank to brae ; 
And bird and beast in covert rest^ 

And pass the heartless day. 

II. 
«' The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast,"* 

The joyless winter-day, 
Let others fear, to ine ninro dear 

Than all the pride of May ! 
The tempest's howl, it soothes my sou^, 

My griefs it seems to join, 
The leafless trees my fancy please, 

Their fate vcseiublcs mine ! 

III. 
Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty scheme 

These woes of mine fulfil, 
Here, firm, I rest, they must be best. 

Because they are thy will ! 
Then all I want (O do thou grai>S 

This one request of mine I) 
Since to enjoy thou dost deny, 

Assist me to resign. 



I>ESPOJVVEJ\rCYy 



I. 
Oppressed with grief, oppress'd with car», 
A burden more than I can bear, 

I sit me down and sigh ; 
O life, thou art a galling load, 
A long, a rough, a weary road. 
To wretches such as I ! 
Dim backward as I cast my view, 
What sick'ning scenes appear! 
What sorrows yet may pierce me thro\ 
Too justly I may fear ! 
Still caring, despairing, 

Must be my bitter doom; 
My woes here shall close ne'e?;, 
But with the closhig tomb ! 



' Dr. Youvgi, 



CUIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 

IT. 

Happy, ye sons of busy life, 
Who, equal to ll)e bustling strife, 

No other view regard '. 
Ev'n wben the wished end's deny'd, 
Yet while t?ie busy means are ply'd, 

They bring tiieir own rewaid : 
Whilst I, a hopo-abandon'd wight, 

Unfilled with an aim, 
Meet ev'ry sad returning night. 
And joyless mourn the same, 
You, bustling, aiidjustling 

Forget each grief and pain; 
I, lisiless, yet rrsllrss, 
Find every prospect vain 

iir. 

rrow blest the Solitary's lot. 
Who, all forgetting, ail-forgot. 

Within his humble cell, 
The cavern wild with tangling roots, 
Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits, 

Beside Jiis crystal well ! 
Or, haply to his ev'ning thought, 

By imfrequented stream, 
The ways of men are distant brought, 
A faint collected dream ; 
While praising, and raising 
His thouglits to Iieav'n on high, 
As wand'ring, meajid'ring, 
He views tlie solemn sky. 

IV. 

Then I, no lonely hermit plac'^d 
Where never human footstep trac'd, 

Less fit to play the part ; 
The lucky moment to improve, 
AvAjiist to stop zvAjust to move, 

With self-respecting art : 
But ah ! those i)Ieasures, loves and joys, 

Which I loo keenly taste, 
The Solitary can despise, 
Can want, and yet be blest ! 

He needs not, he Jieeds not, 
Or human love or hate, 

Whilst I lieie, must cry here, 
At perfidy ingrate ! 



114 POEMS, 



Oh! enviable, early days, 

When dancing tJiouglitless pleasure's ras^f 

To care, to guilt unknown ! 
How ill exchang'd for riper times, 
To feel tiie follies, or tJie crimes, 

Of otUers, or my own ! 
Ye tiny elves thnl guiltless sport, 
1 Like linnets in the bush, 
Ye little know the ills ye court, 
When manhood is your wishf 
The losses, the crosses. 

That active man engage! 
The fears all, the tears all, 
The dim declining ape! 



TO Rum. 

I. 

All hail ! inexorable lord! 

At whose destruction-breathing wortS 

The mightiest empires fall 1 
Thy cruel, wo-delighted train, 
The ministers of grief and pain, 

A sullen welcome, all ! 
With stern, resolv'd, despairing eye, 

I see each aimed dart ; 
For one has cut my dearest tie., 
And quivers in my heart. 
Then low' ring and pouring, 

The; stori:i no more I dreacT; 
Tho' Ihick'ning and black'ning 
Round my devoted head. 

II. 

And thou, grim pow'r, by life abhorr'd, 
While life a pleasure can afford, 

Oh : hear a wretch's pray'r ! 
No more I shrink appall'd, afraid, 
I court, I beg thy friendly aid, 

To close this scene of care ! 
When shall my soul, in silent peace. 

Resign We's joyless day: 
My weary heart it.s throbbings cease, 

Cold nwuUl'ring in the clay 7 



CHIEF L Y SCOTTISH. 113 

No fear more, no tear more. 

To strain my lifeless face ; 
Enclasped, and grasjjed 

Wiiliin i!iv cold embrace I 



LAMEJ^T OF MARY, Q_UEE.r OF SCOTS 

ON THE APrROACIl OF SfRINO. 

Now Nature Iiangs her mantle green 

On every blooming tree, 
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white 

Out o'er the grassy lea: 
Now Pluebus cheers ilie crystal stieams, 

And glads liie azure skies ; 
But nought can glad the weary wiglit 

Tiiat fast in diiiance lies. 

Now lav'rocks wake the meiry mom, 

Aloft on dewy wing ; 
Tlie merle, in liis noontide bow'r, 

IMakes woodlatiti echoes ring ; 
The mavis mild, wi' many a note, 

Sings drowsy day to rest: 
In love and freedum they rejoice, 

VVi' care nor tl'.rall opprest. 

Now blooms the lily by the bank, 

'I'iie prinuose duwn the brae ; 
The hawthorn's budding intlieglen, 

^ And milk-white is the slae ; 
Tlie mi/anest hind in fair Scollaiid 

May rove the sweets amang; 
Bui I, the Queen of a' fcisilaud, 

Blaun lie in prison Strang. 

1 was the Qu(;en o' bonie Fiance, 

Where happy I liae been; 
Fu' lightly raise I in the iriorn, 

As bliihe lay down at e'en: 
And Cm the Si)v'rcign of s^coliand 

And nionie a traitor there ; 
Yet lure I lie in fore'igii hiiDd:?, 

And never ending care. 

But as for ihec, tliou false woman, 

My sister and my fae, 
Gri'n Veuueaiice, yet, shall whet a s?vr>rd 

TJial Ihio' liiy soul shall gae ; 



119 PGEMS, 

'Die weeping blood in woman's breast 

Was never known to tliee ; 
Nor til' balm that draps on wounds of wo 

Frae woman's pityiiig e'e. 

My son ! my son ! may kinder stars 

Upon thy forlnne shine; 
And may tiiose pleasures gild tliy reign, 

That ne'er wad blink on mine ! 
God keep thee frae thy mother's faes, 

Or turn their hearts to thee; 
And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend, 

Remember him for me ! 

O! soon, to mc, may suip.mer-suns 

Nae mair light up the nmrn ! 
Nae mair, to mi;, tlie autiinui winds 

Wave o'er the yellow corn ! 
And in the narrow housi; .i' doatJi 

liCt winter round me ravel 
And the next flowers that deck the spring, 

Bloom on my peaceful grave! 



THE L.^MEJ^T, 

CCASIONED BY THE UNFORTrVATE ISSUE OF A FRIEND*! 

A.ViOHR.. 

Mns! ho'x oft dnes Goodness wound itself 
Jifid sweet Affection prove Ike spring of wo 

IIOMB. 

I. 

O THor pale orb, that silent shmos 

While care-uatroubled mortals sieep 
Thou seest a wrelcli that inly pines, 

And wanders here to wail and weep 
Willi wo ni<j;litly viitils keep, 

Beneath ly wan unwarming beam; 
And mourn , - lamentation deep. 

How life ai.J love are all a dream. 



II 

I joyless view t'ny rays adoiii 
The faintly marked distant liiil : 

I joyless view thy irembliiifi horn, 
Receded in l!ic gurgling riil : 



CUIEFL Y SCO TTISII. Ill 

My fondly-flfittoring heart, be still ! 

Thou busy pnw'r, Remembrance, ceDse 
Ah ! must liie agoiiizinjr tlirill 

Fur ever bar returning peace ! 

rii. 

No idly-feign'd poetic pains, 

My sad love-lorn lamentings claim ; 
No shepherd's pipe — Arcadian strains ; 

No (allied tortures, quaint and lame ; 
The plii^liteil faith— the nmtual flame— 

Tlie oft atlesu^d Povv'rs above ; 
The promis'd Father'' s tender name; 

These were the pledges of my love ! 

IV. 

Encircled in her clasping arms, 

How have the rajitnr'd moments flown. 
How have I wished for fortune's charms, 

For her dear sake, and her's alone I 
And must I think it ! is she gone. 

My secret heart's exuliing boast ? 
And does she heedless liear my groan ? 

And is she ever, ever lost ? 

V. 

Oh ! can she bear so base a heart, 

So lost to honour, lost to truth, 
As from the fondest lover part, 

The plighted husband of her youth i 
Alas ! life's patli may be unsmooth ! 

Her way may lie thro' rounh distress; 
Then, who her pangs and pains will sooth. 

Her sorrows share, and make theni less 1 

VI. 

Ye winged hours that o'er us past, 

Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy'd. 
Your dear remembrance in my breast, 

My fondly-treasur'd thoughts emjiloy'd 
That breast, how dreary now, and void, 

For her too scanty once of room ! 
Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope deslroy'd. 

And not a wish to gild the gloom ! 

Vli. 

The morn that warns th' approaching day 
Awalffcs me up to toil and wo — 



roEJiis, 

I see the hours m long array, 
"■J'hat I must su.Tor, !!!ig('r!r.<r, slow. 

Fiill mnuy a pa;icr. nnd ni.'uiy a (hroe, 
Ki'fTi rt'CoIliTtic.ii's ilirct'iiJ train 

Musi v.-iiii%' niv s<Mii, ere Pii.i'lius, low, 
^^hall kk-s !!if' i!i:-;;i:it Wi'sieni niuin. 

vr!i. 

Aiifi \vli!-n my i;iuhtly roticli I try, 

Sore harassM out with can: ;i',,;i ^rifif, 
My toil l);'ai nerves, aii'l lear-woni eye, 

"Ke";) wati liiij;-; wiili llf iiii^nitl" thief— 
Or ii'i slaii.!)ei, Fancy, ciiiei, 

Reisrii.s lia'iuai;! wild, la sore affright ; 
Ev'n day, all-biiter, hrUvj.^ relief, 

From si;ch a horror-ltreatluug ii.ight. 

IX. 

O : r!i -li liri-T'it e'leca, \v;;o o'er th' expanse 

Now !i':-!!.'--i ic'.'.nrst, with boundless sway ! 
Oft has tiiy siiri!l-ti!arkin<r niaiici; 

Ohserv'd I'.s, roadly-waiul'riiig, stray! 
The lime, unlietiicd, sped n-vay, 

While loves hixurious jxilse beat high, 
Beneatli thy siiver-gleaiiiiiii: ray, 

To mark the mutual kiiuJiing eye, 

X. 

Oil '. scenes in strong remenibraiico set! 

Scenes, never, never, to return ! 
Scenes, if in sttipor 1 fort'et. 

Attain I feel, again ! burn ; 
From pv'ry joy atid pleasure torn, 

]iife's weary vaU; I'll wander thro': 
And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn 

A faithless woman's broken vow. 



OF A MOTHER FOR THE DEATH OF HKR SON. 

Tune—" Finlayston Housed 

Fate cave the word, the arrow sped, 
And pierc'c* my darliujj's iieart ; 

And with him all the joys are fled 
Life can to me impart. 



CHTEFI. Y S CO TTIS H. 1J9 

By cru'n! hands flio priplina drops, 

1/1 dust riislinnourM l;iid : 
So fell ilie pride of all my lio})cs, 

JMy age's future sliade. 

Tlie mother Imnet in the bia!:p, 

Hewaiis lier ravisJi'd voiiiiu — 
So I, for my lost (larliii<>''s s;ike, 

Laiueiil the live-daylong. 

Death, ofl I've f.-ar'd thv fatal hlovv, 

Now, forxi, I hare my l)rear.t, 
O, do fhoii kindly lay me low 

With hini 1 love, "at rest I 



L/iMEJ\rT 

FOR JAMES, EARL OF OLKNCAIRN. 

TnK wind blew hollow frae the lulls, 

l?y fits the sun's (iepartin^i beam 
Look'd on the fadi>ia yellow woods 

That wav'd o'er Luirar's windinc stream ; 
Beneath a craijry steep, a hard, 

Laden willi years atid ri;eikie jiain, 
In loud lametil hewail'd his loni, 

Whom (itsatfi had all untimely ta'cn. 

He lean'd him to an ancient aik, 

Whose inuik was iKouM'rinji down uith years' 
His locks were bieaclxd white wi' time, ' 

IJis hoary check was vvel wi' tears ! 
And as he tonched his lrcml»lin<j harp, 

And as he tun'd his doleful sans. 
The winds, lanienling thro' their cavcp, 

To Echo bore the notes alang. 

" Yn scaiter'd birds lluit faintly sinar, 

The reliqu's of the vernal quire f 
Ye woods that shed on a' tlie winds 

The honours of the ajied y(\Tr I 
A few sliort months, and triad and rav, 

Aaain ye'll charm the ear and c'e ;" 
But iiochi ill all revoiviriL' time 

Can gladness bring again to me. 

" I am a bending a-ied tree, 
Tliat Ions has stood iJie wind and rain— 



120 FOEMS^ 

But now has ^oiiie a cruel blast, 
And iny last liald of earth is gans , 

Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the sprinft 
Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom ; 

But 1 maun lie before the storm, 
And ithers plant them in my room. 

" I've seen sae monie changefu' years, 

On earth I am a stranger grown ; 
I wander in the ways of men, 

Alike unknowing and unknown : 
Unheard, unpitied, unrcliev'd, 

I bear alane my lade o' care, 
For silent, low, on beds of d^ust, 

Lie a' that would my sorrows sliare. 

" And last (the sum of a' my griefs I) 

My noble master lies in clay ; 
The tlow'r amang our barons bold, 

His country's pride, his country's stay; 
In weary being now I pine, 

For a' the life of life is dead, 
And hope has left my aged ken. 

On forward wing for ever fled. 

«' Awake thy last sad voice, my harp! 

The voice of wo and wild despair 1 
Awake, resound thy latest lay. 

Then sleep in silence evermair ! 
And tliou, my last, best, only friend. 

That finest an untimely tomb. 
Accept this tribute from the bard 

Thou brought from fortune's mirkest glooai 
" In poverty's low barren vale. 

Thick mists, obscure, involved me round ; 
Tho' oft I turn'd the wistful eye, 

Nae ray of fame was to be found: 
Thou found'st me like the morning sun 

That melts the fogs in limpid air — 
The friendless bard and rustic song, 

Became alike thy fostering care, 

" O ! why has worth so short a date? 

While villains ripen gray with time 
Must thou, the noble, gnn'rous, great, 

Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime 1 
Why did I live to sea that day 1 

A day to me so full of wo 1 
O ! had I met the mortiil shaft 

Which laid my benefactor low! 



CIIIEFL Y SCO TTISH. Ig] 

« Thfi brldegronni may forgot t!ie bride 

Was iiiaJe Iiis weddeii wife yestreen ; 
The moiiarcfi may forget the cmwa 

Tiiat on liis Jjead an hour lias been ; 
The mother may forget the cJiild 

Tiiat smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; 
But I'll remember thee, Giencairn, 

And a' that thou hasl done for ine 



/.LYES, 

SENT TO St?. JOHN" WIimrFORn, OF \VHITKK0RD, DABT. 

irUli the. foregoing Poem. 

Thou wlio tliy honour as Ihy God revor'st, 

Who, save thy mimrs reproach, rioiigljt eartJily fear'sU 

To thee this votive oirorinji ! inipait, 

The tearful tribute of a broken heart. 

Thefrimd tliou vahied'st, I the patron lov'd ; 

His worth, liis iionouf, all the world ajjiirov'd. 

We'll mourn till we loo go as lie lias szone. 

And tread tht dreary palii to liiat dark world unknown 



S TILI TIM L LJJSi' ' S I.,-7Jr/EjVT 

Thickest night o'erhatigs my dwelling ' 
llowling tenipepis o'er me rave ! 

Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, 
Still surround my lonely cave. 

Crystal streamlets gently flowing, 
Busy haunts of base mankind. 

Western breezes softly blowing. 
Suit not my distracted mind. 

In the cause of right engasred, 
Wrongs injurious to redres-?, 

Honour's war wo strong 'y ■svaged, 
But the Heavens denied success. 

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us, 
Not a hope that dare attend, — 
The wide world is all before us. 
Rut a world without a friend! 
Vol. 1. I 



133 POEMS, 

THE CIIEVAIJER'S LAMENT. 

The small h\n\? rejoire in tl:e grocn I'^avcs rrtiirning; 

Tlie iiiurriHiiiri^); f^ncmn'ci winds cIiTir iliro" llic vale; 
Tlifc havviliorn iicc;? lilosy in ilis' di'ws iifilic MKirning, 

And wiltl-ricatituKil coxs'sliji^i LviIl'cR the gioen ilule; 

BiU wlial can give pleasure, or what can seem fair, 
While the lingiering lilo'.rij-nis are innnbor'd by care? 

No ftowers gayly spiiri^'ing, nar birds svveelly s-iiiging, 
Can sooih the s;"ui bosuni ot'jnyless desfiair. 

The deed that 1 dar'd, con'.d it merit tiieir malice, 
A kin;^ and a iVttlu'r to p'nce on his throne? 

His rin;hi are il>">t' liiiis, aati hi^- iil'Iii are lliese vallies, 
Where the wild bi-astd lind sinil:.-r, but I can find none 

But 'tis not my sufferinirs, tlius wretciied, forlorn, 
My brave, gallant friends, 'tis yonr ruin F mourn; 

Yonr deeds prov'd so loyal in hot bioody trial, 
Alaa ! can I make yon no sw^'eier return I 



THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL TO HIS NATIVE 

COL'ATUY. 

Tunc-" Hod II Ca.-v'Zc." 
J. 
Thk siloomy niyht is gath'rin? fast, 
Tjoud roars the wild, inctnistani blast, 
Yon nmrky clo\id is fon! wiMi rain, 
I see ii dvivinj; o'er the plain ; 
The hunter m';w has left tin; moor. 
The scaiter'd coveys meet secnrf^. 
While here I wnnd'r, prest with care. 
Alon;^ the lonely banks o'i J3yr. 

n. 

T'le Anlnnin nionrns li:>r rip'ning coin 
Bv early \Vi!i!cr's rava-e ;orn , 
Acn)ss her placid ^wmh- ^ky, 
Shp .=«'i's the seowlini' H'mpcsl f]y : 
Cliiil rnns my bio'id to ht'!>r it rave, 
I lliink npiiii the simniy wave, 
VVi..'ii' ninnv a dangi.-r I must dare. 
Far from the bonie banks of .iyr 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 123 

III. 

Tis not the surging billows' roar, 
'Tis not tliai fatal, deadly shore; 
Tliiiii<.'li death in fv'ry shape appear, 
Tilt: wrftdicd liave no more to fear: 
Hut round my liearl llie ties are i)ound, 
Tliat heart transpierc'd will) many a wound 
'J'liese bleed afresli, tliose ties 1 tear 
To leave the bonie banks of J^yr. 

IV. 

Farewell, old Coila's liills and dales. 
Her lieaihy moors and winding vales 
'I'he scenes \\ liere wretclied fancy roves, 
Pursuing past, uidiappy loves! 
Farewell, my friends ! farewell, my foes ! 
B'y peace with 'hese, my love with those — 
The bursting t< ars my heart declare, 
Farewell the bi.nie banks of ^yr. 



FJIREWELL TO JiYRSHIRE. 

Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure, 
Scenes that former thoughts renew, 

Scenes of wo and scenes of pleasure, 
Now a sad and last adieu ! 

Bonie Doon, sae sweet and gloamin. 
Fare ihee weel before I gang I 

Bonie Doon, whare, early roaming, 
First L weav'd the rustic saiigl 

Bowers, adieu, whare Love, decoying. 
First inthraird this heart o' mine. 

There tlie safest sweets enjoying, 
Sweets iliat Mem'ry ne'er shall tyne! 

Friends, so near my bosom ever, 
Ye liae render'd moments dear ; 

But, alas ! when forc'd to sever. 
Then the stroke, O how severe ! 

Friends ! that parting tear, reserve it, 
Tho' 'tis doubly dear to mel 

Could I think I did deserve it, 
How much happier would I be I 



m POK.MS, 

Sof^nes of wo a:)fl r^ceiips of pleasure, 
."^ci^iiesi lliat ibtiiu.T tliou^'iits renew, 

Scenes oi' wn and sceiirs of pleasure, 
Now a f^ui! and iasl adic:i I 



TIJE FAREWELL 'J'O THE BRETHREN OF ST 
JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON. 

Tune — '■"Good night, and joy be wV you a'/" 
L 
Adieu! a luait-warni fniul adieu ! 
Dear brothers of the mystic tye ! 
Ye favoiir'd, ye euUg-fitoi'd f \v, 
f"()in|!air»(ius of my sorial joy ! 

I'ursu'nia iVi;;:ii;:''s siidd.rv ha', 

Willi n::':;!ii!: !;-:.;[, a. id hriini'iil eye, 

id miiid you stiil, il;u' far awa'. 



Cfi Isave ! 


IL 

mot vi'iu so( 


ia! hn:id, 


And -p. 


nl '.}):• i-li--i'\!' 


;l, festive ni;,lit ; 


On, Ihiiini 


1 'd ',',;: l! <!! 1' 


eine ronniiand, 


Plf-idr.( 


o'l-r t:;;' s 'i: 


^ "fl>i^ht: 


And hv il! 


U lurnnn.pj, 


„■ hri-ht. 


VVhicli 


uy,.r\y.A,ral 


is.rci) ever pawl 


Stron- n.e 


i\'jv on niv 1 


eart shall wril« 


Tliosc Ji 


tpi)y scenes wiiea far awa'. 




MI. 




Tili-V need 


iin, liarnionv 


and 'eve, 


Unite VI 


n in the rrrnvd drs^^n. 


Benea;li ;! 


e Ouiniscieti 


1 Fve ahovp, 


'l'!ie 'zU, 


ions .-irifi/rr 


/ divme! 


Thai vm 


nav kerp Hit 


l,ii,rrhl<r line. 


Sli!l ris: 


It; by the filii 


III wet's Into, 


Til! nrdr.r 


iriiiht ronipli 


le!v shine. 


Shall be 


rny pray'r w 


hen far awa . 



IV 

And yoji, farewell I wiiose inerils cin'un, 
Jiislly, thai kii'h'st badire to wear ! 

Ile.'iv'n hies? yonr fionour'd, nolile name 
To Masonry and Scotia dear .' 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 1?^5 

A /apt request, permit me here, 

Wlien yf arly ye asst'inhle a', 
One rovnd^ I as;k it with a tear, 

To him,— the Bard that's far aica' 



FAREWELL TO ELIZA. 

Tune — " Gildcroy.''* 
T. 
From thee, Eliza, I mu^t go, 

A ltd from tiiy native shore; 
The cruel fates lietween us tlirov/ 

A boundless ocean's roar: 
Out boundless oceans, roaring wide, 

Between my love and me, 
They never, never can divide 

My heart and soul from ll'cei 

11. 

Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, 

The maid that I adore! 
A bodinir voice is in mine ear, 

We |>art to meet no more. 
But the last throb tiiat leaves my Iieatt, 

While death stands victor l;v. 
That throb, F.Uza, is thy part,' 

And thine that latest sijili ! 



HIGHLAND MARY. 
Tune— '^ Katharine OgieJ'^ 

Yk banks, and braes, and streams around 

Tne castle o' Monljrornery, 
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers 

Your waters never drnmlie I 
There simmer first unfauld her rol.'es, 

And there the Ian 'e.^I tany ; 
For there I took iiie liist fiircweel 

O' my sweet highland .Mary, 

How sweetly bloom'd the i?ay irreen birk, 
How rich the hawthorn's blossom ; 

As underneath their frnijfrant shade, 
• 'la-p'd K'cr -r- rr-y '-ocm-; ' 



The golilen Iioitrs- n'l aiifrt-i wings, 
Fiuw o'of inc. SLvA my dearin ; 

For rit'ar to oie, as lijrlft and liff-, 
Was my sweet Highland ftiar}'. 

\Vi' many a vnw, arul lock'd embrace, 

Our partiitg was fu' !(_■lld(^*■; 
And. pledging aft to ntetit aj;a!n, 

VVf tore oursnis asunder; 
Hill oil ! fcil deatli's iiti!iiiic-Iy frost 

Tliat nipt my flower sae early ! 
Xow iireeirs iiie sod, atid caiild's tlse clay 

'J'liat wraps my lliuiiiand Wary ! 

() ji.i''. [ ■,'- ;ir iv, t!ios(! rosy lips, 

I a!', :..'i !-,'■■-.'! sa(:* Iniuily ! 
Ati'l vli.';;, ii;i- ;'v, till! rijiarkiins: glance, 

'i-haidn-iiMniM.^sackiiidlyl 
A:id i!!ui,i'd<-ii:ii,' !i(iw in sIUmiI dast, 

'('111!! Ji art ih.i! io'ed me drar!y ! 
i':!! still witliin my bosom's roro, 

Siiaii livt; !;:y Jiiglilami .Mary. 



7'0 J! ]Iiy I.V IIKAVKJ^. 
Thou linu'cri'i;: star, \n iili inss'ning rav, 

'I'lia! Iiiv'y! ;■! 'j'-v\ \W caiiy inurii,' 
Airain tlion ii.msi r'>i i;i \l\v day 

Mv >daiv iVoin \mv soji! was torn. 
O Mary: d.-ar d^paVtnd shade ! 

Wiiere is liiy ji^ace of blissful rest? 
flocsl l!iou tliy hivftr lowly laiil ? 

ilcar'st ihou iiu: groans that rend his breast t 

Tiiat sa^n-d l;:v,!r cww \ (ur-'cf, 

Can I r-i'ji ; ;!! ■ ' :i!'iiu'd <:rove, 
W'-i'T:' iiy !:!:■ \^■ i ! :.: ; :!■.; . 7vr we met, 

To li\'e o'!P day of pai ling love I 
r.rerai'y will not ei'Taco, 

Those records dear of tranpporfg past ; 
riiv inia'ie at our last emt»rare! 

All! little Ihoughi we 'luasour last! 

.^yr cur<rlinc kissed his pebbled shore, 

O'erliiiHi! wi'.i) wild woods, lhick'o''{», grcca' 

The fraL'tant bia'h, ar.d hawiliorn hoar, 
Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd sccte. 

File Jlosvers iptan;; waiiloii to be prest, 
Tiio birds eatia love on every spray, 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISII. 127 

Tin too, too soon, the glowing west, 
Proclaim'd the speed of wingfd day. 

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, 

And fondly broods wilh miser care! 
Time but tlic impression deeper makes, 

As streams their channels deeper wear. 
My Mary '. dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy blissful place of rest? 
Seest thou tliy 'over lowly laid 1 

Hear'sl thou the groans that rend his breast ? | 



ELEGY OJV THE I^flTE MISS BURjXET 

OF mokboduo. 
Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize. 
As Burnet, lovely, from her native skies ; 
Nor envious Death so triumph'd in a blow, 
As tliat wliich laid llie accomplished Burnet low. 

Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget 1 
In richest ore the brightest jeAvel set! 
In tiiee, high Heaven above was truest shown. 
As by his noblest work the Godhead best is known. 

In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, j-e groves; 

Thou crystal streamlet with tiiy flowery shore; 
Ye woodland choir that chant your idle loves, 

Ye cease to charm — Eliza is no more ! 
Ye heathy wastes, immix'd with reedy fens: 

Ye mossy streams, with sedge and rushes stor'd , 
Ye rugged clifl^s, o'erhanging dreary glens, 

To you I fly— ye Vv'ith my soul accord. 

Princes, whose cumb'rous pride was all thf ir worth 

Shall venal lays their [oirpons exit hail ? 
And thou, sweet excellence '. forsake our earth, 

And not a muse in honest grief bewai: ! 

We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, j j 

And virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres: j 

But like tlie sun eclips'd at morning tide, ! 

Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears. 1 

The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, ' | 

That heart liow sunk, a prey to grief and care ; i \ 

So decked the woodbine sweet yon aged tree, j j 

So from it lavisli'd, leaves it bleak and bare. j ! 

I i 



\i 

j I V r I', s R s 

li :>N Re,\PiN-«, IN A NKV.Si'Al'l R, T!!K IK \Tn OF JOHN M'LKOD, 

:j Z^q HUo-'-Hl i'. TO A VOL•^'5 l-APy. A VARTU'VLaR FKIEM) 

j 1 Of 1 UK AT DloR's. 

i! !^Ai' tin- ^:l'^^ '!!"ii '<i'r iO--:", 

i AiiilViK't'i!] \\:\ ;;!;irm<!:' 

|i ^^v ■(•!'> (!((k'(! ^\'i'li |<'Ri!y dew 

\\ ■■•:.(• U'DiMiii:; iv>sc in;.y [m.\v; 

i! I!:' <•,,:<!, Slier. -vivr' !M;!.:,;j/!t! bJasta 

i'h.' siiii prnijiiuius suiil'd ; 
f'^ii. I'M!;; eic lioo!!, sii;:(Tt'(iil!j; tlouds 
Sui cf (liiii! iiopi'S l)e,'j;iiird. 

F ',■<' f'"! f! ;p-s «!;<■ liD.'^rMii cl'ords 

'i'pai \v.U:H- li!ll■^!i r:;!!;!!:.' ; 
Fn i-;ii f !;>'? !M';irl was iVniirf!, 

And sn iii;i'. Iicii.l way wrung 

Hr'Tid OiiinipuNtiro, nionp, 
. y-.iti lii-a !iH- \vii;iii<l hf Jiavc ; 

ji Chm iiuiiii !hc liriiiifiil uii'.'C-worn eyes 

j ! i'.) sc<.i!t;s bo\i)i!d llie j;iave. 

1 1 \'iiinf*s b:<)-s.):n< thrrf shall bloVr', 

jj A^id (r;ir -lo n-itli-nn;i hiast : 

ll Til. r. l-:(l.i-l!,i's s!'i)!l(;<s vvuitll 

t^iii'.li li'i'Py !»t' a: last. 



OS Ilia otAiii or RtMiscKT p.ir»nt.f„ esq. of olen !III>dsi>, 
j Ai'i'.iL, IT'.:}. 

N<> itr«rr, ye warliliT.-- i.f i.'sc wo-'mI, no more, 
jNi.f (>.'.;t Mill' ilcsciiTii, <:iatin<: lUi i:iy sou! ; 
'ilKiii vcrti'i,' .'.rd >'prii!r, s^y 111 tliy vprdatit sl(>lo, 

Rii.ri- \' <■:. ci.'u \v:i!- !(i iiie ciiin ^Villtcr'£ wiUcsl rotr. 



cniEFL Y SCO TTisii. i:d 



{low can yo charm, ye flow'rs, with a'! yoiir (!yrg ? 

Ve l)lo\v upon the sod thai wraps my fricr.il : 

Mow can I to the tuneful strain attont! 1 
That strain flows round th' uiitinu'Iy IcnJj v,-herf Kidd^'l Ilea 

Yes, pour, ye warblers, pour Il;e notes of wo, j 

And sooth Ike Virtues wt.-eping on tiiis bier: | 

Tiie Ma-n of Worth, and has not left liis prer, ' 

Is ill liis " narrow house," for ever darkly \o\v. 
'rhf'(.', Spring, agaii! with joy shall others greet ; 
Me, niLin'ry of my loss will only met I. 



i 
F ERSES I 

ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES H'J.VTKR ELA7R. j 

The lamp of da.v, with ill-prcsajring clarc, j 

Dim, ciondly, siink beneath the western wave ; 
7'h' inconstant biast howl'd iliro' the darkening air, 

Arul hoiiow wl)i:?lled in the rocky cave. 

Lone as I wnrder'd by each clifi'and dell, 

Once the lov'd Jiaiints of Scotia's royal train ;♦ 
Or miis'd vvliere limpid streams, once hallow'd we'.!,| 

Or mouid'ring ruins mark the sacred fane;$ 

Th' increasing blast roar'd round the hcet!i!)g rocks, 
The clouds, swift-wing'd, flew o'er the starry sky. 

The groaning trees untimely shed their locks. 
And shooting meteors caught tlie startled eye. 

The paly moon rose in tlie livid east. 

And 'mong the cliffs disclos'd a stately form. 
In weeds of wo, tiiat frantic beat lier breast. 

And mix'd lier waitings with the raving storm. 

Wild to my heart the fdial pulses fJ^w, 

'Twas Caledonia's trophiod shield I view'd : 
Her form majcjtic tlroop'd in pensive wo, 

Ttie light'ning of her eye in tears imbued. 

Revers'd that sjiear, redoubtable in war, 

Reclin'd that banner, erst in fields unfurl'd. 
That like a deaihful meteor gitam'd afar, 

And brav'd the mighty monarchs of the world:— 



• T%e fftH«-'s Park, at IMyrood-house. 

♦ «» Jtnthonv's JVcU. % St. .fJnthuvifs Chapel 



130 POEMS, 

" My patriot Son fills an untimely grave! 

With accenJs wild and l:ftc<l arms slie cried— 
'•L.-nv lies the hand that oft was slrft<;ird to save 

Low lies the heart thalswi-ll'd with honest jiride ! 

" A wcmm^ country joins a widow's t-ar, 

The helpless poor mix with the orjihan's cry; 
The drooping arts surrji^nnd their patron's hit!r, 

And grateful science heaves the lieartfell sigh. 
" I saw my sons resume their ancient fire; 

I saw fair Freedom's biossonis richly blow; 
But ah ! how hope is born but to e.\|iire! 

Relentless fate lias laid this guardian low. 

" My patriot falls, but shall he iie unsung, 
^ , While empty greatness saves a wol•ttll(:^s name 1 

j i No ; every nmse shall join hfr tunci'iil tongue, 

I i And future ages hear his growing fame. 



" And I will join a mother's tender earns, 
Thro' future limes to make his virtues last, 

Thai distant years may boast of other lilairs:'* — 
She said, and vauish'd with the sweeping blast. 



,1DDRRSS 

i i rO TKK SHADE OF THOMSON, ON CROWNINO HIS BrgT 41 

i EDNAM, BOXBURailSHIRE, WITH BAYS. 

i I WniLK virgin Sjjring, by E(ien's flow!, 

] Tlufulds her tender mantle green, 

j ■ Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, 

1 1 Or tunes Julian strains between ; 

j . While Summer with a matron grace 

I i Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade, 
j I Yet oft, delighted, slo[>s to trace 

! j Tlie progress of llie spiky blade ; 

j I While Autumn, benefactor kind, 

I I Ry Tweed erects his aged head, 

{ I An(i sees, with self approvmg mind, 

! Each creature on iiis bounty fed ; 



While maniac Winter rages o'er 
The liills whence classic Yarrow floWB, 

Eousing the turbid torrent's roar, 
Or sweepios;, wild, a waste of snows: 



So Inns, "Wcrt pncit ofiljc y? nr, 

Sl'iill l.looju rhai \vn';i;i| ihun ut 'i! hati won , i 

VVhiti! .<c,niia, nil!: .Miiin^a unr. \ 

rri>cU«i.'UH liiiii 'i li'.iM.M.ii u a.- lar s<:)«. 

I 

i.prr.!!'// 

fnn lllK ArTS'.Oil*.- lAMii Vl. 

O YE, wlidsp rhrck tl'p t!'.Tr ii»'|-i-y >;;':;is\ 

Drriw iii-:ir v\ i'lt i.im.s r.v-.-,- -. c" nvA a:U-ri.J , j j 

[I.TP lif 111.' luvin.u Imi i.-.|.<l-- .!••;:; r.ii ;...<, M 

'I'lie t<-ii(i:;i I'ailuT, ai.tl tiif- trcii'ix'';.- iiiniti. li 

The piiyiiif! li-na ti-it! iVIl .''..i .'iimTui wti ; \\ 

Till- I'aiiiuirss li,.:vi 'h;!; !'<'.-,!'(l n-i liiisjsan priite • ] j 

Tin- fli. lui ..liiilSli. in \;..- ic.,.,. ., !.,,.. !! 

i) 



FOA' A*. .?., f:.sQ. 

Kxou Unm, () sirnriitt.'r to tli«' ihiup 
or litis iniuli !.>v"il. iinali lioiMiird i!:>.::)<;; 
(Fur iKint: ihiil knew liiin iiciil !„• u^u]) 
A wariii'-i heart Ucaili ac'cr inadi; co.ti. 



OX .^ FliiKX!) 

Ah hon»st fiiaii )icr<- lie.-, a! m -t. 
As *i'i't <ii>tl Willi liis iiiiatre Ip .•--! • 
The fti.'ti.l of man, ilir iiK-jul oiiriitli; 
The friend "f kuc, and L'uide o!' v( ii;:i : 
Frw h.arts, like liis, v,i;li viriii." '.vairii"!!, 
Y<L.\\ heads wiih kiiii\v!( i!<;i' so iiiforiird; 
Iflhrtc'ji a;t=Ul;:.r -.V!i:;(!. hf iiv, ., in ),!.vs ; 

If lih'.rc is J)0!!c, he Jisadc thf= h's; .ift;;;*. 



* "'^ li 



VERSES 

ffN TIIK UIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD, 

Born in peculiar circumstancrs of Family Diatreti 

SwEKT Flow' rot, pledge o' inrikle IcvCj 

And ward o' tiionie a pray'r, 
V/iiat heart o' stat\« wad ihrrn na move, 
j Sae helpless, sweet, and fair ! 



!82 FOE.MS, I 

A BARD'S EPITAPH. \ 

Ts tliere a whim-iii?piicd foni, 

Owre Cast for llioiight, owre liot, for rule, I 

Owre b!a!e to seek, cwre proud to ?noo!, I 

Let him draw near: ] 

Atid owre this grassy heap siiii; dool, I 

And "d rap a tear. j 

Ts there a Ravd of rnstic son?, i 

Who, iioteli's-^, steals the crowds among, j 

That weL'kiy this ;;r('a lhroii,!r, ! 

O, pass not hy ! j 

Bat with a fiaior-fcfTms stronjr, . j 

Here heave a sigli ' I 

j I Is flfpre a man wliose jiidfrinent clear, 

\ Can otliers teach the course to steer, j 

i Yet rans, himseU". 'life's mad career, i 

j Wild as the wave ; • 

j Here pause — and thro' the starting tear, i 

I Survey tliis grave. j 

The poor inhabitant below j 

j Was quick to learn and wise to know, I 

[ And keenly felt the friendly plow, {' 

; And softer tlanie, I 

t Bui thoughtless follies laid liini low, j 

I And stain'd his name! i 

I I RpadfT, attend— whether tliy soul I 
1 1 Foars fancy's flights beyond the pole, | 
i { Or darkly grubs this earthly hole, 1 
I i "in low ptirstiit ; | 
i 1 . Know, prudent, cautions, self-control, 

' Is wisdom's root. i 



CUIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 133 

November hirples o'er the lea, 

Chill on thy lovely Ibrin ; 
And gane, alas I tlie sheltering tree, 

Should shield thee frae tlie storm. 

May lie wlio gives the rain to pour, 

And wings the blast lo blav/, 
Protect thee frae liie driving show'r, 

Tlie bitter frost and snaw ! 

May He, the friend of wo and want, 

Who heals life's various stounds, 
Protect and guard the mother-plant, 

And ileal her cruel wounds. 

But late she flourished, rooted fast, 

Fair on the summer morn ; 
Now, feebly bends she in the blast, ' 

UnsheUer'd and forlorn. 

Blest be thy bloom, tliou lovely gem, 

Unscath'd by riitnan hand ; 
And from tJiee many a parent stem 

Arise to deck our land. 



ojv se;n-sibility. 

TO MY PEAR AND MUCH HONOURED FRIEND, MRS DUNLOP 
OF DUNLOP. 

Fensieility, how charming, 

77jom, viyfritnd, cansl truly tell; 
But distress with horrors aiming, 
Thou hast also l<nown too well. 

7aircst flow^cr, behold the lily, 

Blooming in the sunny ray ; ! i 

Let the blast sweep o'er the valley, j j 

See it prostrate on the clay. * i ; 

Hear the wood-lark charm the forest, | j 

Telling o'er his little joys ; I c 

Hapless bird ! a prey the surest, : i 

To each pirate ot" the skies. j j 

Dearly bought the hidden treasure, | j 

Finer feelings cati bestow ; ! l 

Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, j j 

Thrill the deepest notes of vve. I [ 



1 j 184 POEMS, 

\\ VERSES, 

i ! >N 8KKINO A WOUNDED HARE LIMP BY MK, WHICH ▲ riLLOW 

j j " HAD JUST SHOT AT. 

! i Inhuman man ! curse on thy barb' reus art, 

j ; And blasted be thy nmrdcr-aiming eye : 

I May never pity sooth thee witli a sigh, 

I Nor ever pleasure glad tiiy cruel heart I 

! i Go, live, poor wanderer of the wood and field, 

j The bitter little that of life remains ; 

j No more the thickening brakes anil verdant plains 
To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield. 

j Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonteJ rest, 

1 ! No more of rest, but now thy dying bed ! 

' I The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head, 

! ! The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest. 



Oft as by winding Nith, I, nmsing, wait 



j The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, 

! I I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn, 

I ! And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy haplesa fate. 



i j LIJ^ES, 

[ j OW SCARING SOME WATER-FOWL IN LOCH TURIT, A WILS 

j 1 SCENE AMONG THE HILLS OF OUGHTERTYRE. 

! i Why, ye tenants of the lako, 

; For me your wat'ry haunt forsake? 

• Tell me, fellow creatures, why 
I At my presence thus you fly 1 

j Why disturb vour social joys, 

Parent, filial, kindred ties 1— 
Common friend to you and me, 
! Nature's gifts to all are free ; 

I j Peaceful keep your dimpling wave, 

• • Busy feed, or wanton lave ; 

! { Or, beneath the sh(!ltering rock, 

: I Bide the surging billow's shock, 

I Conscious, blushing for our race, 

I I Soon, too soon, your fears I trace; 
{ ! Man, your proud usurping foe. 

Would be lord of all below ; 
Plumes himself in Freedom's pride* 
Tyrant stern to all beside. 



L 



I CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 139 

\ \ The eagle from the cliffy brow, 

■ i Marking you his prey below, 

I ■ In his breast no pity dwells, 
! Strong necessity compels ; 

j But man, to whom alone is giv'n 

i ' A ray direct from pitying Heav'ii, 

; Glories in his heart humane, — 

I ; And creatures for his pleasure slain. 

I I In these savage, liquid plains, 

j Only known to wand'iing swains, 

I ^ Where the mossy riv'let strays, 

j ! Far from human haunts and ways, 

: All on Nature you depend, 

i And life's poor season peaceful spend. 

: Or, If man's superior might, 

1 Dare invade your native right, 

; : On the lolly ether borne, 

! ' Man with all his pow'rs you scom ; 

j I Swiftly seek, on clanging wings, 

■ j Other lakes and other springs ; 

I : And the foe you cannot brave, 
Scorn at least to be his slave. 



WRITTEN ON THB 25tH OF JANUARY, 1793, THE BIRTHDAI 
OF THB AUTHOR, ON UEARINQ A THRUSH IN A MURNINQ 
WALK. 

Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough ; 

Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain; 

See aged Winter, mid his surly reign. 
At thy blithe carol clears his furrow'd brow ; 

So in lone Poverty's dominion drear. 

Sits meek Content, with light, unanxious heart. 

Welcomes the ra|)id moments, bids them part, 
Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear. 

I thank thee. Author of this opening day, 

Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies ! | 

Kiches denied, thy boon was purer joys, i 

What wealth could never give nor take away ! j 

Vet come, thou child of poverty and care ; j 

Tlie mite high Heav'n bestow'd, that mite with thee TU shaia. , j 






138 POEJaS, , j 

TO A MOUSE, 

ON TURNING HER XJP IN HER NEST, WITH THE PLOVOI^ 

NOVEMBER, 1785. | 

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tirn'rous beastie ! j 

O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! | i 

Thou need nae start awa sae hasty, ; j 

Wi' hickerin brattle ! : 
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 

Wi' mmd' ring pattle! i 

I'm truly sorrow man's dominion i \ 

Has broken Nature's social union, ] 

An' justifies that ill opinion, I 

Which makes thee startle 

At me, thy poor earth-born companion, j 

An^ fellow-mortal! | 

I doubt na, whyles but thou may thieve ? i 

What then 1 poor beastie, thou maun live ! . I 

A daimen-ickcr in a thrave 

's a sma' request : 
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave. 

And never miss't ! 

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! 

Its silly wa's the win's are strewln ; \ 

An' naething, now, to big a new ane, ' i 

O' foggage green ; ' j 

An' bleak December win's ensuin, : | 

Baith snell and keen ! | 

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, j 

An' weary winter com in* fast, 
An cozie here, beneath the blast. 

Thou thought to dwell, 
Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past ; 

Out thro' thy cell. 

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, I 

Has cost thee monie a weary nibble ! ' 

Now thou'st turn'd out, for a' thy trouble. ' 

But house or hald, 

To thole the winter's sleety dribblo, ' 

An' cranreuch cauld ! ; | 
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, j 

In proving foresight may be vain : 
The best laid scheme o' mice an' mcTij j 

Gang aft a-gley, : j 

An' lea'e us nought but grief and pjdn ' i 

For promis'd joy. '■ j 






CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 137 

Still thou art blest, comparM wi' met 
The present only toucheih thee ; 
But, och ! 1 backward cast my e'e, 

On prospects drear ! 
An' forward, the' I canna see, 
I guess an' fear. 



li 

TO A MOVKTAIX DAISY, I 

OH TXJKNIRQ 0N» DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1788 

Wkk, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, 
Thou'Bl met me in an evil liour ; 
For I maun crush aniang the stoure 

Thy slender stem ; 
To spare thee now is past my pow'r, 
Thou bonie gem. 

Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, 
The bonie Lark^ companion meet. 
Bending tliee 'mang tlie dewy weet, 

VVi' spreckled breast. 
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet 
The purpling East. 

Cauld blew the Ijitter-biting North 
Upon tliy early, humble birih ; 
Yet cheerfully ihou glinted forth 

Amid the storm. 
Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth 

Thy tender form. 

The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, 
High ehelt'rlng woods and wa's maun shield; 
But thou beneath the random bield 

O' clod or stane. 
Adorns the histie stibble-jield. 

Unseen, alane. 

There, in thy ::i;ttnty mantle clad, 
Thv pr.-v»ie bosom sunward spread 
1 nou lifts thy unassuming head 

In humble guise; 
But now the share u[rtcars thy bed, 
And low thou lies ! 

Such is the fate of artless Maid; 
Swaet fioic' ret of the rural shade 
Vol. I. K 



138 , POEJilS, 

By love's simplicity betray'd, 

And guileless trust, 

Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid 
JjOW i* the dust. 

Such is the fate of simple Bard, 
On life's rough ocean luckless siarr'd ; 
Unskilful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore. 
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 

And wliehn him o'er. 

Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n, 
Who long with wants and woes has striv'n, 
By human pride or cunning driv'n. 

To mis'ry's brink, 
Till wrench'd of ev'ry stay but Heav'n, 

He, ruin'd, sink ! 

Ev'n thou wlro monrn'd the Daisy's fate, 

That fate is thine— no distant dale; 

Stern Rum's plough- share drives, elate, 
Full on thy bloom, 
! i Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, 

\ ! Shall be thy doom. 



i! 

1 1 X'HE HUMBLE PE TITIO.Y OF BR UAR WA TER,* 

I ; TO THE NOBLE DUKE OF ATHOLE. 

My lord, I know your noble car 

Wo ne'er assails in vain : 
Emboldened tlius, I beg you'll hear 

Your humble slave complain, 
How saucy Phoebus' scorcliing beams, 

In flaming sunmier-pride, 
Dry-withering, waste my foamy stieams 
i j And drink my crystal tide. 

i i The lightly jumping glowrin troiits, 

! j That thro' my waters play, 

I ! If, in theit random, wanton spouts, 

i I They near llie margin stray ; 



* Bruar Falls, hi jJthole, are exceedingly pieturesqvt And' 
h'avtiful: but their effect is much impaired by the toaal •/ 

trees mid sfirrihs. 



I 
i 

i 

CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 139 J 

If, hapless chance, they linger lang, ; \ 

I'm scorcliiug up so shallow, • I 

They're left the whil'ning stanes amang, j 

In gasping death to wallow. I 

Last day I grat wi' spite and teen, ! 

As Poet B**** came by, ;j 

That, to a Bard, I sliould be seen if 

Wi' half my channel dry ; \ \ 

A panegyric rhyme, i ween, s] 

Ev'n as I was, he slior'd me ; J 

But had I in my glory been, ; j 

He, kneeling, wad ador'd me. i i 

Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks, \{ 

In twisting strength 1 rin ; I j 

There, iiigli my boiling torrent smokes, j| 

Wild-roaring o'er a linn : \ | 

Enjoying large eacli spring and well \ | 

As nature gave them me, i i 

I am, altho' i say't mysel, \\ 

Worth gaim a mile to see. \ \ 

Would then my noble master please j 

To grant my highest wislies, : \ 

He'll shade my banks wi' tow'ring trees, : \ 

And bonie spreading bushes ; ' i 

Deligiited doubly then, my lord, ; 

You'll wander on my banks, | 

And listen monie a grateful bird . | 

Return yoa tuneful thanks. \ 

The sober lav'rock, v/arbling wild, ; \ 

Shall to the skies aspire •,^ ..\ 

The gowdspink music's gayest child, : 1 

Shall sweetly join the choir ; \ | 

The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear, . | 

The mavis mild and mellow; { u 

The robin pensive autumn cliecr, 1 1 

In all her looks of v^eilovv : , : i 



This too, a covert shall ensure, ' • 

To shiekl tliem from tlie storm ; > 

And coward maukin sleep secure, j | 

Low in her grassy form ; \ 

Here shall the shepherd make his seat, { 

To weave his crown of flow' rs ; ; \ 

Or find a shelt'ring, safe retreat, i i 

From prone descending show'rs. i j 



140 POEMS, 

And lieie, by sweet endearing stealtlj^ 

SIkiU meet the loving pair, 
Despising worlds with all their wealth 

As empty, idle cftre. 
The flow'rs shall vie in all their charinw, 

The hoiir of lieav'n to grace, 
And birks extend their fragrant arma, 

To screen the dear embrace. 

Here haply too, at vernal d«wn, 

Some mushig Bard may stray. 
And eye the smoking, dewy lawri, 

And misty mountain, gray ; 
Or, by the reaper's nightly beanv, 

JMtId checjn'ring thro' the trees, 
Rave to my darkly-dashing stream, 

Iloarse-sweiling on the breeze. 

Let lofty firs, and ashes cool, 

jMy lowly banks o'erspread, 
Ami view, deep-bending in the pool. 

Their shadows' Avai'ry bed ; 
Let fragrant birks in woodbines dresi 

My craggy clifls adorn ; 
And, for the little songster's nest, 

'ilie close enibow'ring thorn. 

So may old Scotia's darling hope, 

Your little angel band, 
Sprir.g, like their father's, up to prop 

Tlieir honour'd native land. 
So may thro' Albion's farthest ken, 

To social flowing glasses. 
The grace be—" Athole's honest men, 

" And Athole's bonie lasses!" 



LLYES 

WRITTKN WITH A PENCII,, OVKR THK CHIMNKT-nirB, 19 
THE PARLOUR OF THE INN AT KENMORB, TATHOOTS 

ADMiRrNO Nature in her wildest grace, 
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace ; 
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep, 
Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep, 
My savase Journey, curious, I pursue, 
Ti.l fam'd Brfta<hi!br}ne opi'Hs in my view ~ 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 141 

The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides, 
The woods, wild scatter'd, clothe their ample sides ; 
Th' otitsiretchiiif? lake, enibosnm'd "nions the hills, 
The eye with wonder and amazement fills ; 
The Tay, meand'riiig sweet, in infant pride, 
Tlic palace risinj; on his verdant side ; ' 
The lawns wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste ; 
The hillocks dront in Nature's careless liaste ; 
The arclies striding o'er the new-born stream; 
The village, glittering in the noon-tide beam— 



Poetic ardours :n my bosom swell, 
Lone, wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell : 
The Hweeping theatre of lianging woods ; 
Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods 



Ihixe Poesy might wake her heav'n-taught lyre. 

And look thro' Nature with creative fire ; 

Here, to the wrongs of Faf^ half reconcil'd, 

Rliefortune's hghten'd steps might wander wild ; 

And Disai)pointment, in these lonely bounds. 

Find balm to sooth her bitter, rankling wounds ; 

fltsre heart-struck Grief might heav'n-ward stretch her scac 

And injur'd Worlli forget and pardon man. 



— il 

i j 

LIKES i j 

WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL, STANDING BY TIIK FALL OF j 

FYERS, NEAR LOCH-NESS. ', \ 

ij 

Among the heathy hills and ragged woods | i 

The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods ; ' I 

Till full he dashes on the rocky rnounds, ! 

Where, through a shapeless breach, his stream resounds • \ 

As high in air the bursting torrents flow, : t 

As Jeep recoiling surges fram below, : j 

Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends, i • 

And viev/less Echo's ear, aslonish'd, rends. ' j 

Dim seen, through rising mists and ceaseless show'ra ; 

The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, low'rs. ■ 

Still thro' the gap tne struggling river toils, . | 

AJid still, below, the horrid caldron boils— . I 



II BookITL 

, F A .M ! L I A K A .N D E P I S 1' O L A R 5 

i 1 

ji TO MISS L , 

! ; WITIJ BEAT riE'S niKMS AS A NVW-VKAR'U &1J'T, JAKrASS 

I 

! '■ Aii\is the silc'it whc'l? ot uuio 

I Tiicit aniiii.'ii ■■iMiiii! have t?r',v'n, 

j .; And you, tlio' sr-arrt; in niaUlt-n prime, 

5 ; Are so much nearer lis-av'n. 

I i\'o <:if!.'a liave I frttui Indian coa-ls 

I '. 'Dip iufaiil yr-ir lo haii ; 

I , } .•u.iid you MJOff than liuha boa^'.j 

I ■ Our sex witli fuilp and faithfosa love 

I Is cliars'd, iwriiaps tuo fru« ; 

j . ?!a» may, d>':ir maid, each iovcr provo 

I i An F.'i'xi'i sii!) !n v'»u- 



ro .^nss CRrirKs?i.i.\'ss, 



Written o:t ike bUtnk k'lf of a liook^ prcscntfd to her b>j thi 
Aiillicr. 

RKArrEo;-? ro^'obiid. vnuiig and cay, 
Rli.!Huiri!: on Uiy crtrly Miiy, 
NVv«r miy'pt th;'U. k>vo|y flijw'i, 
Cliiily slfniik in shviy show'r ! 
Never finrca-!' hoary pruh. 
Nckcr F.ii.'.is* pois'ii'»iis Itrralh, 
NcviT baiefc! slelliu h^tiu, 
Taini thsie «'!th umnai !>• WlgbD*. 



I 

i 

Y'OEMS^CUIEFLY SCOTTISH. la ! 

Never, never reptile tliirf , 1 

Rtol on thy virgin ieaC: A 

Nor even So! loo fiercely view 5 

Thy bosom biusliing still wiih titvv ! J 

May*st thou long, sweet crimson gem, j| 

Richly deck lliy native stem ; i 

Till some evening, sober, calm, i 
Dropping dews, and brcailiing balm. 

While all around the woodland x'lwgi^ .{ 

And ev'ry bird thy requiem sines ; ,^ 

Thou amid the dirgeful sound," I 

Shed thy dying honours round, ' \ 

And resign to parent earth !f 

The loveliest form site e'er gave birtlc. \ 



VERSES :\ 

i 

ON A YOUSa LAIOV, | 

Residing on the banks of (he sviaU river Devon, in Clack- j 

mannanahire, but whose infant years wr re spent in Ayr- '{ 
shire. 

How pleasant the banks of ili.; clear-winding Devon, . ; 

With green spreading bushes, and flow'rs blooming faif ; ' I 

But the boniest flower on the banks oftlie l>evon I 

Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. J 

Mild be the sun on this sweet-blusiiing fiower. '\ 

In the gay, rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew 1 3 

And gentle the fall of the woft vernal shower, 3 

That steals on the evening each leaf to renew. | 

O ^*rc tlie dear blossom, ye orient breezes, ^ 

With chill hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn ■ I 

^nd far be lliou distant, thou reptile that seices J 

The veidure and pride of the garden and lawn. | 

iM Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies, ;t 

And En4;land triumphant display her proud rose ; ] 

A fklier ih.in either adorns the gieen vallics j 

Wkore Devon, sweet Devon, meajidcring flow*. j 



J44 POEJilS, 

VERSES 

TO A -XOITNO LADY, WITH A PRESENT Of SOHOfl. 

IltRK, where the Scottish muse iminortal lives, 
111 sacred strains ana tuneful iiunibers join's! 

Accept the gift ; tho' humble he who givca. 
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. 

So may no ruffian-feeling in thy breast 
Discordant jar thy bosom-chords among; 

But peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, 
Or love ecstatic wake his seraph song : 

Or pity's notes, in luxury of tears, 
As modest want the tale of wo reveals ; 

While conscious virtue all the strain endears 
And heav'n-born piety her sanction seals. 



VERSES, 

WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A COl'Y OF HIS POKMS, 
PRBSKNTKD TO A LADV, WHOM HE HAD OFTEN CELKBRAT- 
BD UNDER THE NAME OF CHLORIS. 

'Tis Friendship's p!ed<?e, my young fair friend, 

Nor thou the gift refuse, 
Nor with unwilling ear attend 

The moralizing muse. 

Since thou, in all thy youth and charms, 

Must bid the world adieu, 
'A world 'gainst peace in constant anna) 

To join the friendly few. 

Since, tliy gay morn of life o'ercast, 

Chill came UiC tempest's lower ; 
^And ne'er misfortiiae's eastern blast 

Did nip a ftiircr flower.l 

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more. 

Still much is left behind ; 
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store, 

The comforts of the mind I 



Thine Is tlit self approving: ?low. 
On conscious honour's part ; 

And, deareiil gift of Heaven bt-low, 
Thine friendship's truest heart. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 1« 

The joys rcfin'd of sense and taste, 

With every Muse to rove : 
And doubly were the Poet blest, 

These joys could he unprove. 



VERSES, 

WftlTTSN ON THS BLANK LEAF OF A COPY OF HIS POEMS, PRS 
BBNTEO TO AN OLO SWEETHEART, THEN MARRIED. 

Omcb fondly lov'd, and still rei<nember'd dear, 

Sweet early object of my youthful vows, 
Accept this mark of frk'iwlship, warm, sincere, 

Friendship ! — 'tis all cold duty now allows : 
And when you read the simple, artless rhymes. 

One friendly sigh for him, he asks no more, 
Who distant bums in flaming, torrid climes, 

Or haply lies beneath the Atlantic roar. 



TO A YOUJCa LADY, 

Kill «IIY t— — , DUMFRIES ; WITH BOOKS VVRICH THE BARB 
PRESENTED HER. 

Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair, 
And with tliem take the Poet's prajta- ; 
That Fate may in her fairest page. 
With ev'ry kindliest, best presage 
Of future bliss, enrol tliy name. 
With native worth and spotless fame. 
And wakeful caution, still aware 
Of ill— but chief, man's felon snare; 
All blameless joys on earth we find 
And all the treasures of the mind— 
These be thy guardiar and reward. 
Bo pr«y8 thy faithful friend, the l?ard. 



TO J. S»**» 

Primdship I mysterious eemeiU of tke M«/ 

Sweet' tier of hfe, and tolder of society! 

I oiee thee wueh.— Blauu 

DiAR S****, the Bleest, paukle thief, 
That €'€r attempted stealth or rief. 



146 POEMS, I ! 

Ye surely hae some warlock-breef \ 

Ovvre human hearts ; \ 

For ne'er a bosom yet was prief i { 

Against your ar'is, 1 1 

For me, I swear by sun and moon, I i 

And ev'ry star that blinks aboon, i 

Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon 1 1 

Just gaun to see you ; 1 1 

And ev'ry ither pair that's done, , i 

Mair ta'en I'm wi' you. y \ 

That auld capricious carlin. Nature, i ; 

To mak amends for scrimpit stature, i | 

She's turn'd you alf ' a human creature 1 1 

On her ^rs£ plan, , < 

And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature, 1 1 

She's wrote the Man. ' t 

Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme, : , 

My barmie noddle's working prime, | 

My fancie yerkile up sublime j 

Wi' hasty summon ; I 

Hae ye a leisure-moment's lime j 

To hear what's comin ? > 

Some rhyme, a neebor's namo to lash ; I 

Some rhyme (vain thougiit !) for needfu' cash ' I 

Some rhyme to court the countra clash, i 

An' raise a din ; 
For me, an aim I never fash ; 

I rhyme for fun. 
The star that rules my luckless lot. 
Has fated me the russet coat, 
And damn'd my fortune to llio groat ; 

But in reqnit, 
Has bless'd me wi' a random shot 

O' countra wit. 
This while my notion's ta'en a sklcm, 
To try my fate in guid black prent; 
But still the mair I'm that way bent. 

Something cries, " Hoolicl 
I rede yoa, honest man, tak tent ! 

Ye' 11 sliaw your folly. 

" There's ithnr poete, much your bcliar*, 
Far seen in Greek, deep men o' leUert, 
Hae thought they had insur'd their debtora 

A' future aR(-3 ; 
Now moths deform in shapeb^s tatte»» 
Their unknown paj^a." 



CHTEFL Y SCO TTISIL M7 i ' 

Tlieiin-reweel hnpeo o' laurel-boughs, i 

1 u gJiiiand my poetic brows '. . | 1 

liericefortli I'll rovo wlifre biisj^ ploughs | 

Are whistling tlinuig, " 
An teach the lauely lieights ami huwea 

My rustic sang. I 

I'll wander 0:1 wi' tentless heed, I 

How never-haitiiig nioments speed, I 

1 111 fate shall snap the briltid tliread ; I ! 

'f'lien, all unknown, i 

I'll lay me with the inglorious dead, il 

Forgot and gone ! i ! 

But why o' Death begin a tale ? I j 

Just now we're living, sound, and hale, i 

1 hen top and maintop crowd the sail, 
ileave Care o'er-side ! 
And large, before Enjoyment's gale, 
I.et's tak the tide. 

This life, sae far's I understand, 
Is a' enchanted, fairy land. 
Where Pleasure is the magic wand 

That, wielded right, 
JMaks hours like minutes, hand in hand. 

Dance by fu' light. i j 

The magic wand then let us wield; i I 

For, ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd, ! i 

See crazy, weary, joyless Eild, ; ; 

VVi' wrinkled face, i 

Comes hostin, hirpliu owre the field, j 

Wi' creepin pace. . 

When ance Life's day draws near the gloamin, 1 
1 hen farev\eel vacant, careless roainin ; 

An' lareweel cheerfu' tankards foamin, i 

An' social noise ; j i 

An' fareweel dear, deluding tcoman, ; 

Tile joy of joys ! ! j 

O life ! how pleasant in thy morning i j 

Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning ! I 
Cold-pausing Caution's lessons scorning, 

We frisk awav, ' 

Like school-boys, at ih' e.^pected warning, | 

To joy and ])iay. ' | 



We wander there, we wander here, 
VVe eye the rose upon the brier, 



148 F0EM3, 

i Unminilful that the thorn is neaj, 

Among the leaves ; 
I And lliough the puny wound appea?, 

I Short while it grieves. 

\ Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot, 

I For wiiich they never toil'd nor swat ; 

i They drink the sweet, and eat tlie fat, 

I But care or pain ; 

1 And, haply, eye the barren hut 

I " With liigh disdain. 

With steady aim, some Fortune chas«; 

Keen Hope does every sinew brace ; 

Thro' fair, thro' foul, tJiey urge it»e rac*> 
I And seize the prey ; 

i Then canie, in some cozie place, 

j They ciose the day. 

i And others, like your Ininible scrvan', 

I Poor wigliis ! nae rules nor ro.ids observi» j 

To right or left eternal swervin, 
1 Tiiey zig-zag on ; 

I Till curst with age, obscure an' starvia, 

I Tliey aften groan. 

! Alas ! what bitter toil an' straining — 

! But, truce with peevish, poor complaining ? 

/ Is Fortune's fickle I.vnc waning? 

i E'en let her gang ! 

I Beneath what light she has remaining, 

I Let's sing our sang. 

/ 51y pen I here fling to the door, 

I And kneel, " Ye Powers !" and warm Implor*, 

" Tiio' I should wander Terra o'er, 
In all her climes. 

Grant me but this, I ask no isore, 

Ay rowth o' rhymes. 

} " GJe dreepjng roasts to countra lairds, 

I Till Icicles hing frae their beards ; 

! Gi€ fine braw claes to fine Life-Guarda^ 

1 And Maids o' Honour; 

{ And yill an' whiskpy gie to Cairdd, 

I Until li.ey sconne?. 

I "A Title, Dempster merits it ; 

A garter gie to Willie Fitt; 
I Gie Wealih to some be-leger'd cia, 

I In cent, per teui. ; 

I But gie rac real, irterling Wit, 

I And S'ra conttsJ. 



CHIEF L Y SCO TTISH. 

** While ye are pleas'd to keep me bale, 
I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal, 
Be't water-brose or muslin-kail, 

Wi' cheerfu' face, 
As lang's the Muses dinna fail 

To say tlie grace." 

An anxious e'e I never throws 
Behint my lug, or by my nose ; 
I jouk beneath Misfortune's blowa 

As weal's I may; 
Sworn foe to Serrow, Care, and Prose, 
I rhyme away. 

O ye douce folk, that live by rule, 
Grave, tideless-bloody, calm, and cool, 
Compar'd wi' you— O fool ! fool I fool : 

How much unlike ! 
Your hearts are just a standing pool, 
Your lives, a dyke ! 

Nae hair-brain'd, sentimental traf ;■ 
In your unlettered nameless faces, 
In arioso trills and graces 

Ye never stray ; 

But, gravissimo, solemn basses 

Ye hum away. 

Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye' re wise \ 
Nae ferly tho' ye do despise 
The hairum scairum, ram-stam boys. 

The rattlin squad: 
I see you upward cast your eyes— 

Ye ken Uie road. 

Whilst I— but I shall baud me therO"^ 
Wl' you I'll scarce gang ony where- 
Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair, 

But quat my sang, 
Content wl' you, to mak a pair, 
Wbare'er I gang> 



ISe POEMS, 

EPISTLE TO DAVIE, 

4 BROTHBR POET.* 

January • 



VVhilb winds frae aff Ben- Lomond blaw 
And b:ir the doors vvi' driving snaw, 

And hing us owre the inqle, 
I sit me down to pass the tinne, 
And spin a verse or tvva o' rhyme, 

In liamelv westiin jingle. 
While frosty winds blaw in the drift, 

Ben to the chimla lug, 
I grudge a wee the great folks' gift, 
That live sae bien an' snug : 
I tent less, and want less 
Their roomy fire side ; 
But hanker and canker, 
To see their cursed pride. 

IL 

it's hardly in a body's pow'r 
To keep at times frae being sour, 
To see how things are shat'd ; 
How best o' chiels are whiles in want, 
While coofs on countless thousands rani, 

And ken na how to wair't: 
Bat, Davie, lad, ne'er fash your head, 

Tho' we hae little gear. 
We're fit to win our daily bread, 
As lang's we're hale and fier ; 
" Mair spier na, no fear na,"t 
Auld age ne'er mind a feg, 
The last o't, the warst o't. 
Is only for to beg. 

TIL 

. To lie in kilns and barns at e'en, 
When banes are craz'd and bluid is this 

Is, doubtless, great distress ! 
Yet then content could make ua blest ; 
Ev'n then, sometimes we'd snatch a taate 

Of truest happiness. 

• David Sillar, one of the club at Tarholton, and author 
efa volume of Poems in the Scottish dialecU 
t Ramsay. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 

The honest heart that's free frae a' 

Intended fraud or guile. 
However Fortune kick the ba', 
Has ay some cause to smile ; 
And mind still, youMl find still, 

A comfort this nae sma' ; 
Nae mair then, we'll care then, 
Nae farther can we fa*. 

IV. 

What tho', like commoners of air, 
We wander out we know not where. 

But either house or hal' ! 
Yet nature's cliarms, the hills and woods, 
The sweeping vales and foaming floods, 

Are free alike to all. 
In days when daisies deck the ground, 

And blackbirds whistle clear, j | 

With honest joy our hearts will bound, ; j 

To see the coming year : j j 

On biaces when we please, then, I ] 

We'll Bit an' sowth a tune; ij 

Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till't, ; { 

And sing't when we hae done. 1 1 

11 

It's no in titles nor in rank 1 1 

It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank, i j 

To purchase peace and rest ; 1 1 

It's in makin muckle mair ; I j 

It's no in books ; it's no in lear, | ! 

To make us truly blest : i 

If happiness hae not her seat i 

And centre in the breast, j 

We may be wise, or rich, or great, 1 1 

But never can be blest : 

Nae treasures, nor pleasures, 

Could make us happy lang ; 

The heart's ay the part ay, | 

That maKes us right or wrang 

VL 

Think ye, that sic as you and I, 

Wha drudge and drive thro' wet and dry, 

Wi* never-ceasing toil, 
Think ye, are we less blest than they, 
Wha scarcely tnnt us in their way, 

As hardly worth their while ' 



f52 POEMS, 

; Alas ! how aft in haughty mood, 

'■ God's creatures tliey oppress ! 

i Or else, neglecting a' that's guid, 

I They riot in excess ! 

i Baith careless and fearless 

; Of either heav'n or hell ! 

I Esteeming, and deeming 

I It's a' an idle tale ! 

1 

! Tiien let us cheerfu' acquiesce, 

i Nor make our scanty pleasures less, 

I By pining at our state ; 

j And, even should misfortunes come, 
I, here wha sit, hae met \vi' some, 

! An' 's thankfn' for them yet, 

i j Tliey gie the wit of age to youth ; 

I • They let us ken oursel ; 

I ■ They make us see the naked truth, 

I I TIk; real gtiid and ill. 

j I Tlio' losses and crosses, 

i ' Be lessons right severe, 

j j Tiiere's wit there, ye'll get there, 
i'e'll Had ua other where. 

I VIII. 

i But tent me, Davicy ace o' hearts ! 

i .'To say aught less wad wrang the cartas 

jl Ai.'d'flatt'ry I detest,) 

I i This life has joys for you and I ; 

i I And joys that riches ne'er could buy ; 

i j And joys the very best. 

i i , T])ere's a' the pleasures o' the keart, 

I j ' The lover an' the frien' ; 

i ! Ye hae your Aleg; your dearest part, 

j { And I my darling Jean I 

j I It warms me, it charms me, 

j To mention but her name : 

I I It heats mo, it beets me, 

I i And seta me a' on flame ! 

ii 

jj IX. 



O all ye Pow'rs who rule above ! 
O TJtou whose very self art love! 

Thou know'st my words sincew ! 
(i)^ life-blood streaming thro' my heart 
f .'r inv more dear iir inortal pan 

1.-; i:oi more f-r-.1'v dear: 






CU IE FL r SCO TTISn. 153 

When Jiearl-corrodiug care and grief 

lit'prive my soul of rest, 
Her tlear nlt:a hrings relief 
And solace Jo my breast. 
Thou lieinff, Allseeiup, 

O hear my fervent pray'r. 
Sull lake her, and make Ikt 
7"A^ moi-l peculiar e;::.- I 
X. 
All liail, ye tender feeling.- il. a: ! 
The smile of love, llie friei.d \ uar, 

'riiesympaihelic yiow ; 
Long since, tins world's thorny ways 
Had aumberd out my weary days, 

Had it not been for yoii ! 
Fate sti'l lias blest me witli a friend, 

In every care aiid ill ; 
And oi"; a more endenring h;ind, 
A lie more tender sii'l. 

It li-htens, It bni:!itee?, ! 

'I'he iersehrilie sreur', 
Tn meet wiih, nnd creet with, 
JMy Davie ot my Jean. 
XI. 
O, how that name inspires my style! 
The words come skeipin rank and file, 

Amaisl before 1 ken ! 
The ready nieasnre rins as fine. 
As Phiebus and liie famous .\ine 

VVeie glowrin owre my pen. 
My spaviel Peffasxis will limp, 

Till ance he's fairly het ; 
And then he'ii hiUh, and siiit, and jiinpi 
An' rin an nnco fit: 
But lest then, the beast then, 
Should rue this ha.^ty ride, 
I'll light now, and ditrhl now, 
His sweaty, wizen'd liiae. 



TO THE S.^ME. j 

trLDNKEBOR, } 

I'M three times doubly o'«r your delttor, 1 

For your auld-farram, frien'ly letter, , 

Tho' I maun say't, I ilnuht ye flatter, 1 1 

Ye sji'-ak sae fair; i , 

Vol. T. L 



154 POEMS, 

For my puir, silly, rliymin' clatter, 
Some less maun sair. 

Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle ; 
Lang may your elbuck jink an' diddle, 
To cheer you thro' the weary widdle 

O' war'ly cares, 
Till bairns' bairns kindly cuddle 

Your auld gray Iiairs. 

But, Davie, lad, I'm redye're glaikit; 
I'm taiild the muse ye hae negleckit, 
An' gif its sae, ye sud be Ticket 

Until ye fyke ; 
Sic hauns as you sud ne'er be faikit, 

Be hain't wlia like. 

For me, I'm on Parnassus' brink, 

Rivin the words tae gar them clink; 

Wiiyles daez't wi' love, whyles daez't wi' drink 

Wi' jads or masons ; 
An' whyles, but ay ovvre late, 1 think 

Braw sober iCssons. 

j Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man, 

- Commen' me to the Bardie clan ; 

Except it be some idle plan 
j O' rhymin' clink 

The devil-haet, that I si.d ban, 
They ever think. 

Nae thought, nac view, nae scheme o' livln', 
Nae cares tae gie us joy or grievin'; 
But just the pouchie put the nieve in, 

An' while aught's there, 
Then hiltie, skiltie, we gae sciievin', 
I An' fash nae mair. 



Loeze me on rhyme ! its ay a treasure. 
My chief, amaist my only pleasure, 
At hanie, a-fiei', at wark or leisure, 

The Muse, poor hizzie! 
Tho' rough an' raploch be her measure, 

She's seldom lazy. 

Hand tae the Muse, my daintie Davie i 
The warl' may play you monie a shavit 
But for the Muse, she'll never leave ye, 

Tho' e'er sae puir, 
Na, even tho' l:mpin wi' the spavie 

Frae door to door. 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH, 155 

EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, I 

AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD. 

.flpril 1, 1785. 

While briers an' woodbines budding green, 
An' paitricks scraicliin loud at e'en, 
An' morning poussie vvhiddiu seen, 

Inspire my Muse, 
This freedom in an unknown frien' 

I pray excuse. 

On fasteen-een we had a rockin, 
To r.a' the crack and weave our stockin 
And tliere was niuckle fun an' jokin 

Ye need na doubt • 
At length we liad a licarty yokiii 

At sang about. 

There was ae savg, aniang the irw 
Aboon thein a' it pleas'd me best, 
That some kind husband had addrest 

To some sweet wife ; 
Itthrill'd tlie lieart-slrings thro' the breast, 

A' to the [lie. 

I've scarce lieard aaj;;ht describe sae wee' j j 

What gen'rous, manly bo^onls feel : I | 

Thought I, " Can tliis be Pope, or Steele, \ i 

Or Beatlie's waik ?" i j 

They tohl me 'twas an odd kind cliiol j }' 

About Midrkirk. \ j 

it pat me fidgin-fain to hear't, I 

And sae about liim tliere I spier't, ! ] 

Then a' that kent liim round Jeclar'd j 

He liad inginc, ^ J 

That nane excell'd it, few cam nearl, ^ j 

Itwassaefir.f, ; 

That set him to a pint of ale • 

An' either douce or merry tale, j ! 

Of riiymes an' sangs he'd ma<le himscl, j j 

Or witty catches, i 

'Twcen Inverness and Tiviotdale, ! j 

lie liad few matches. ' i 

Thc-ii up T gat, an' swore an aith, ! I 

Though 1 sliould pawn my pleugh and graith, j I 



155 POEMSt 

Or die a cadger-pownie's death, 

At some dyke-back, 
A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith 

To hear your crack. 
But first an' foremost, I should tell, 
A maist as soon as I could spell, 
I to the crambo-jingle fell, 

Tho' rude an' rough, 
Yet crooning to a body's sel, 

Does weel enough. 
I am nae Poet, in a sense, 
But just a Rhymer, like, by chance, 
An' hae to learning nae pretence. 

Yet what tha matter 1 
Wliene'er my Muse does on me glance, 

I jingle at her. 
Your critic-folk may ceck their nose, 
And say, " How can you e'er propose, 
You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, 

To mak a sang?" 
But, by your leaves, my learned foes, 

Ye're may be wrang. 
What's a' your jargon o' your schools, 
Your Latin names for horns an' stools. 
If honest nature made yo\i fools, 

What sairs your grammara 1 
Ye'd belter taen up spades and shools. 

Or knappin-hammera. 
A set o' dull, conceited hashes. 
Confuse their brains in college classes ! 
They gang in stirks, and come out aases. 

Plain truth to speak : 
An' sjTie they think to climb Parnassus 

By dint o' Greek ! 

Gie me ae spark o' nature's fire. 
That's a' the learning I desire ; 
Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire 

At pleugh or cart, 
Wy Muse, tho' hamely in attire. 

May touch the heart 

O for a spunk o' Mian's glee. 
Or Fergusson's, the bauld and slee. 
Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be, 

Iflcanhitit! 
That would be lear enough for me. 

If T could get it! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. IW i; 

Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow, i j 

Tho' real friends, I b'lieve are few, ; j 

Yet, if your catalogue be fou, ij 

I'se no insist, j ' 

But gif ye want a friend tliat's true, ! ! 

I'm on your list. j 

I winna blaw about mysel ; j 

As ill I like my fauts to tell ; j 

But friends and folk that wish me well, \ 

They sometimes roose me, j 
Tho' I maun own, as monle still 

As far abuse me. 1 

There's ae weefaut they whyles lay to me 
I like the lasses— Gude forgie me ! 
For monie a plack they wheedle frae me 

At dance or fair ; 
May be some ither thing- they gie me, 

Tliey weel can spare. 

But Mauchline race, or Mauchline fair, 
I should be proud to meet you there , 
We'se gie ae night's discharge to care^ 

If we forgather, 
An* hae a swap o' rhymin-isare 

Wi' ane anither. 

The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter. 
An' kirsen him wi' reekin water ; 
Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whittcr 

To cheer our heart ; 
An' faith, we'se be acquainted better 

Before we part. 

Awa, ye selfish, warly race, 
Wha think that havins, sense an' grace, 
Ev'n love an' friendship should give place 

To catch-the-plack ! 
I dinna like to see your face, 

Nor hear your crack. 

But ye whom social pleasure charms. 
Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms 
Who hold your bcinff on the terms, 

" Each aid the others !" 
Come to my bowl, come to my arms. 

My friends, my brolherf ! 

Bui, to conclude my lang epistle, 
As my auid pen's worn to the grlasle ; 



POEMS, 

Twa linos frae you wad gar me fissle, 
Who am, most fervent, 

Wliile I can either sing or whissle. 

Your friend and servant 



TO THE SAME. 
JJpril 21, 1785. 
While nevv-ca'd l^ye ront at the siake 
An' pownies reek in plengh or braik, 
This hour on e'unin's edfje I take, 
'J'o own I'm di;l)lor 
To honcst-heartod, anld Lapraik, 
For his kind letter 

Forjesket sair, with weary lo},'s, 
Rattlin the corn out-owre tlie ri<:s, 
Or dealing thro' aniang tlie naig3 

Tlieir ten-liours bite, 
My awkart Muse sair pleads and begs, 
I would na write. 

The tapctless ramfeexl'd hizzie, 
Slie's saft at best, and someihing lazy, 
Quo' she, " Ye ken we've been snt bu?y, 

'J'liis month an' mair, 
That troutli my head is grown riirhl dizzje. 

And something sair." 

Her dowff excuses pat me mad : 
" Conscience," says, I, " ye thow 
I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud, 

That vera nigiit; 
So dinna ye alfront yj^ur traile. 

But rliyme it right. 

"Shall bnuld Laprnik, the king o' heart*, 

Fho' mankind were a pack of cartes, 

Roose you sae weel for your deserts, 

In terms sae friendly, 

f et yc'll neglect to show yo>ir parts, 

And thank him kindly!" 



Sae I gat paper in a blink, 
r An' down gaed gtumjtie in the ink 

I Quoth I, " Before I sleep ;i wink, 

I I vow I'll close it; 

I An' if you winna mak it clink, 

I By JoverilprosoU!" 



CBIEFL r SCO TTISH. 159 

Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether 
In rhyme or prose, or baith thegilher, 
Or some hotch-imtch that's rightly neither 

Let time mak proof; 
But I shall scribble down some blether 
Just clean aff-loof. 

My worthy friend, ne'er jH'udge an' carp 
Tho' fortune use you hard an' sha/p; 
Come, kittle up your moorland harp 

Wi' gleesome touch ! 
Ne'er mind how Fortune waft an' warp; 

She's but a b-tch. 

Slie's gien me monie a jest an' fleg, 
Sin' I could striddle owre a rig ; 
But by the L— d, tho' I should beg 

Wi' layart pow, ^ 

ni laugh an' sing, an' shake my leg, " 

As langs I dow! 

Now cornea the sax-an'-twentieth simmer 
I've seen the bud ope' the timmer, 
BlUl persecuted by the limmer 

Frae year to year; 
But yet, despite the kittle kirnmer 

/, Rob^ am here. 

Do ye envy the city Gent, 
Behind a kist to lie and skicnt. 
Or purse-proud, big wi' cent, per cent.., 

And muckle wane, j | 

In some bit burgh to represent j j 

A Bailie's name ! i 

Or, Is't the paughty, feudal Thane, i j 

Wr ruffled sark an' glancing cane, i j 

Wha thinks himsel nae sheepshank bane, i 

But lordly stalks, j 

While caps and brnnets affare taen, ' 

As by he walks? i 

" O Thou wha gies us each good gift, 

Cle me o' wit an' sense a lift, ; 

Then turn me, if Thou please, adrift, | 

Thro' Scotland wide ; i 

wr CIta nor Lairds I wadna shift, i 

In a' their pride !" | j 

Were thla the charter of our state. 
"On pain of hell be rich an' great,'* 



I i 160 POEMS, 

I \ Damnation then would be our (late, 
i Beyond remead; 

I I But thanks to Heav'n ! that's no the gate 
■ ! We learn our creed :— 

! i For thus the royal mandate ran, 

I ; When first the human race began— 

i " The social, friendly, honest man, 

1 1 Whate'er he be, 

i ' 'Tis he fulfils great JSTature's plan, 

\ I An' none but he /" 

I i O mandate glorious and divine ! 
! I The ragged followers of the Nine, 

I I Poor thoughtless devils ! yet may shine 
j i In glorious light, 

i I While sordid sons of Mammon's line 

I i Are dark as night. 

I ! Tho' here they scrape, an' squeeze, an' growL 

I I Their worthless neivefu' of a soul 
j ' May in some future carcass howl, 

I The forest fright ; 

1 1 Or in some day-detesting owl 

I i Ma^ shun the ligbL 

; I Then may Lapraik and Burns arise, 

i J To reach their native, kindred skies, 

I And sing their pleasures, hopes, an' Joys, 

j In some mild sphere, 

I Still closer knit in friendship's ties, 

I Each passing year ! 



TO W. S*****JV. 

OCHILTREE, MAT, 1785. 

I OAi' your letter, winsome Willie; 
Wi' grateful heart 1 thank you brawlie 
Tiio' I maun say't, I wad be silly. 

An' unco vain, 
Should I believe, my coaxin billy. 

Your flatt'rin strain. 

But I'se believe ye kindly meant it, 
I sud be laith to think ye hinted 
Ironic satire, sideline sklented 

On my poor Musie ; 
Tho* in itic phraisin terms ye've penii'd Itt 
I scarce excuse ye. 



OHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 161 

My eensea wad be in a creel. 
Should I but dare a hope to spcel, 
Wr Allan^ or wi' Gilberlfield, 

The braes o' fame ; 
Or F^gxisson^ the vvriter-chiel, 

A deathless name. 

(O Fergusson I thy glorious parts 
III suited law's dry, musty arts ! 
My curse upon your wluinstane hearts, 

Ye E'nliurgh gentry ! 
The tithe o' what ye waste at cartes, 

Wad slow'd his pantry !) 

Yet when a tale comes i' my head. 
Or lasses gie my heart a screed, 
As whyles they're like to be my dead, 

(O sad disease I) 
I kittle up my rustic reed, 

It gies my case. 

Auld Coila now may fid^e fu' fain, 
She's gotten Poets o' her ain, 
Chiels wha their chanters winna hain, 

But tune their lays 
Till echoes a' resound again 

Her weel-sung praise. 

Nae Poet thought her worth his while, 
To set her name in measur'd style ! 
She lay like some unkenn"d-of isle 

Beside J^cw-HoUaTid, 
Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil 

Besouth Magellan. 

Ramsay an' famous Fergusson 
Gied Forth an' Tay a lift aboon ; 
Yairoto an' Tweed, to monie a tune. 

Ovvre Scotland rings ; 
While Irwin, Lu^ar, Ayr an' Boon, 

Nae body sings. 

Th' nUssuSy Tiber, Thames an' 5eijie, 
Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line ! 
But, Willie, set your fit to mine, 

An' cock your ciest, 
We'll gar our streams and burnics shine 
Up wi' the best. 

We'll BJng auld Coila' a plains an' fells, 
Her moors red-brown w»' heather-bells, 



POEMS, i 

Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells, I 

Where glorious JVallacs 
A ft bure the cree, as story tells, 

" Frae Southron billies. j 

At Wallace's name, what Scottish blood 
r.ut boils up in a spring-tide flood ! 
Olt have our fearless fathers strode 

By Wallace's side, j 

Still pressing onward, red-wat shod, 

Or glorious dy'd. ' 

O sweet are Coz7a'5 haughs an' woods, j 

When Ilntwliites chant aniang the buds, ; 

And jirkin bares, in amorous whids, 

Their loves enjoy, , 

While thro' the braes the cushat croods i 

Wi' wailfu' cry ! 
Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me. 
When winds rave through the naked tree ; 
Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree 

Arc hoary gray ; 
Or blinding drifts wild furious flee, 

Dark' ning the day! 
O J\rat2ire! a' thy shews an' forms 
To feeling pensive hearts nae charms ! 
Whether the summer kindly warms, 

Wi' life an' light. 
Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 

The lang, dark night ! 
The Muse, nae Poet ever fand her, 
Till by himself he learn'd to wander, 
Adown some trotting burn's meander. 

An' no think lang ! 
O sweet, to stray an' pensive ponder 

A heart-felt sang ! 
The warly race may drudge an' drive, 
Hng-shoulher, jundie, stretch an' strive, 
Let me fair JsTature's face descrive, 

And I, wi' pleasure. 
Shall let the busy, grumbling hive 

Bum owre tliclr treasure. 
Fareweel, " my rhyme-composing brltherJ" 
We've been owre lang unkenn'd to ither: 
Now let us lay our heads tiiegitlier, 

In love fraternal : 
May Envy wallop in a tether, 

IMack fiend, infernal ! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH 163 

Wbile Highlandmen have tolls an' taxes t 
While moorlan' herds like guid fat braxiea ; 
While terra firma, on her axis 

Diurnal turns, 
Count on a friend in faith an' practice 
In Robert Burns. 



POSTSCRIPT. : 

My mem'ry's no worth a preen ; j 

I bad amaist forgotten clean, ! 

Ye bade me write you what they mean 

By this new light,* 
*Bout which our herds sae aft hae been 

Maist like to fight. 
In days when mankind were but callans 
At Grammar, Logic, and sic talents. 
They took nae pains their speech to balance, 

Or rules to gie, 
But spak their thoughts in plain, braid Lallianf 

Like you or me. 
In thae auld times, they thought the moon, 
JuBt like sark, or pair o' shoor, 
Wore by degrees, till her last roon, 

Gaed past their viewin'. 
An* shortly after she was done, 

They gat a new one. 
This past for certain, undisputed : 
It ne'er came in their heads to doubt if. 
Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it, 

An' ca'd it wrang ; 
An' muckle din there was about it, 

Baith loud and lang. 
Some herds, wecl learn'd upo' the beuk. 
Wad threap auld folk the thing misieuk 1 
For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk, 

An' out o' sight. 
An' backlins-coniin, to the leuk, 

She grew mair bright. 
This was deny'd, it was affirm'd ; 
The herds an' hissles were alarm'd ; 
The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' storm d. 

That beardless laddies 
Should think they better were inform'd 

Than their auld daddies. / 

• JSTeiB light, a cant phrase in the West of Scotlarui for | 

those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of J^ToTWich de- | 

fauhd 80 strenuously. ' ! 



i i 264 POEMS, 

i Frae less to mair it gaed to slicks ; 

I Frae words an' aitiis to blours an' nicks , 

1 And monie a fallow gat his licks, 

! I Wi' hearty ciiiiit ; 

i ; An' some, to learn them Cor their tricks, 

j j Were liang'd an' brunt. 

j This game was play'd in monie lands, 

j i An' aukl light caddies pure sic hands, 

; Tliat, faith, the youngsters took the sands 

I Wi' nimble shanks, 

I : The lairds forbade, by strict commands, 

i I - Sic bluidy pranks. 

j ; IJut new-light herds gat sic a cowe, 

I j Folk thought liiein ruiu'd stick an' stowe, 

I I Till now amaist on ev'ry knowe, 

1 1 Ye'll find aue plac'd; 

! ; An' some, tlioir new-light fair avow, 

|: Just quite barefac'd. 

j ' Nae doubt tlio atild-light flocks are bleatin; 

Their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweaiin ; 
Jlysel, I've even seen them greetin 

Wi' girnin spite, 
To hear the moon sae sadly lied on 

By word an' write. 

But sli>)rtly th'^.y will cowe the loung; 
Some auld-iight herds in necbor towns 
Are mind't in things they ca' ballooiiii, * 

To tak a flight. 
An' stay ae mouth amang the moons, 

An' see them right. 

Guid obsorvntinii they will gie them, 
An' when the auld moon's iiauu to lea'e them 
Tlie hind:nosl shaird, they'll fetch it wi' thera 

Just i' their pouch, 
An' when the new-light billies see them, 
I think they'll crouch ! 

Sae ye observe that a''this clatter 
Is naething but a "moonshine matter;" 
But Uio' dull prose-folk Latin splatter 

In logic tulzie, 
I hope, we bardies ken some belter 

Than mind sic brulzie. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 165 

EPISTI4E TO J. R**»***. 

KMCLOBIKS gOMB F0EM8. 

O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted R******, 
Tbe wale o' cocks for fun and drinkin I 
There's monie godly folks are tbinkin, 

Your dreams* an' tricks 
Will Bend you, Korah-like, a sinkin, 

Strauglit to auld Nick s. 

Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants, 
And in your wicked, drucken rants, 
Ye makp a devil 0' the saunts, 

An' fill them fou ; 
And then their failings, flaws, an' wants. 
Are a' seen thro* 

HjrpocriBy, in mercy spare it ! 
That holy robe, O dinna tear it ! 
Spar't for tlieir sakes wha aften wear it, 

The lads in black ; 
But your curst wit, when it comes near it, 

Rives't aff their back. 

Think, wicked sinner, wha ye're skaithing. 
It's just the blue-gown badge an' claithing 
O' saunts ; tak that, ye lea'e them naething 

To ken them by, 
Frae ony unregeneraie heathen 

Like you or I. 

I've sent you here some rhjoning ware, 
A* that I bargain'd for, an' mair ; 
Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare, 

I will expect 
Tour sang^, ye' II sen't wi' cannie care 

And no neglect. 

Tbo* faith, sma' heart hae I to sing ! 
My Muse dow scarcely spread her wing ! 
I've ptay'd mysel a bonie spring. 

An' danc'd my fill ! 
rd better gaen an* sair'd the king. 

At Bunker's Hill. 

* w9 certain humorous dream of his WM then making a I I 

»tMe <n the eountry-side. I | 

t jS sooff he had promised the Jluthor. \ 

II 
1 1 



186 POEMS, 

'Twas ae night, lately, in my fun, 
I gaed a roving wi' the gun, 
An' brought apartrick to the gruQ. 

A bonie hen, 
An', as the twilight was begun, 

Thought nane wad ken 

The poor, wee thing wag little hurt, 
I straikit it a wee for sport. 
Ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't, 

But dell-ma'-care ' 
Somebody tells the poackei^court 

The hale affair. 

Some auld-us'd hands had taen a note 
That sic a hen had got a shot ; 
I was suspected for the plot ; 

I scorn'd to lie, 
So gat the whissie o' my groat, 
ij An' pay 'I the /ce 

j : But, by my gun, o' guns the wale, 

j ' An' by my pouther an' my hail, 

i \ An' by my hen, an' by her tail, 

i I I vow an' swear! 

1 1 The game shall pay o'er moor an' dald 

j i For this, niest year. 

■ i As soon's the clockin-time is by, 

; i An' the wee pouts begin to cry, 

I j L — d, I'se hac sportin by an by, 

j i For my gowd guinea, 

I I Tho' I should herd the buckskin kyo 
1 1 For't in Virginia. 

1 1 Trowth, they had muckle for to blamt » 

1 1 'Twas neither broken wing nor hmb, 

1 1 But twa-three draps about the wame 

1 1 Scarce thro' the feathen; 

I ; An' baith a yellow George to claim, 

1 1 x\n' thole their blethers ' 



It pits me ay as mad's a hare ; 
So I can rhyme nor write nae mair ! 
'Bui pennyworths again is fair. 

When time's expedient | 
Meanwhile, I am, respected sir. 

Your moat obedient 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. VSi 

TO DR. BLACKLOCK. '■ \ 

Ellisland, Oct. 21 1789. 1 j 

Wow, but your letter made me vauntie ! i 1 

And are ye liale, and wee!, and cantie ? ■ j 

I keim'd it still your wee bit jauniie '. ! 

Wad bring ye to : ;! 

Lord send ye ay as weol's 1 want ye, i I 

And then ye' U do. : 

The ill-tliief blaw the Heron* south \ j 

And never drink be near Jiis drouth ! \ \ 

He tald uiysel by word o' moulh, i I 

He'd tak my letter; !i 

1 lippen'd to the chiel in troutli j j 

And bade nae better. j i 

But aiblins honest Master Heron i j 

Had at tlie time some dainty fair one, I • 

To ware his tlieologic care on, • 

And holy stud} , i ! 

And tir'd o' sauls to waste his lear on, i j 

E'en tried the body. ! ' 

But what d'ye think, my trusty ficr, .' i 

I'm turn'd a gaucer — peace be here ! i \ 

Parnassan queens, I fear, I fear j ; 

Ye'll now disdain vac, \ \ 

And then my fifty pounds a-year j i 

Will little train me. I 

H 

Ye glaikit, gleesomc, daintie damies 1 1 

Wha by Castalia's wimplin streaniies, I i 

Lowp, sing, and lave your pretty linibice 1 j 

Ye ken, ye ken, j i 

That Strang necessity sppreme is ; j 

'Mang sons o' men. i j 

I hae a wife an' twa wee laddies, i | 

They maun hae brose and brats o' duddie*» \ \ 

Ye ken yourseis my heart right proud is, \ \ 

I need na vaunt, ! j 

But I'll oncd besoms — tliraw saugh woodles, j 

Before they want. ■ 



* Jlfr, Heron, author vf a History of Scotland, ans 
various other works 



! !68 POEMS, 

\ Lord help me thro' this warld o' care ! 

i I'm weary sick o't late and air ! 

I Not but I hae a richer sliare 

i Tliaii mony ithera : 

} But why should ae man better fare, 

1 And a' men britliersl 

I Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the van, 

j Thou stalk o' carl-licnip in man ! 

i And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan 

' A lady fair ; 

[ Wha does tlie utmost that he can, 

I Will whyles do mair. 

} But to conclude my silly rhyme, 

1 1 (I'm scant o' verse, and scant o' time,) 

j ! To make a happy .ire-side clime 

i To weans and wife, 

j Thai's the true pathos and sublime 
Of human life. 

j j My compliments to sister Beckie ; 

j j And eke the same to honest Lucky, 

! j I wat she is a dainty chuckle, 

j . As e'er tread clay! 

I j An' gratefully, my guid auld cockie, 
i I I'm yours for ay. 

I I ROBERT fiURNB. 

ii 



TO COLOJ^TEL DE PEYSTER 

DUMFRIES, 1796. 

My honour'd Colonel, deep I feel 
Your interest in the Poet's weal ; 
Ah ! now snia' heart hae I to speel 

The steep Parnassua, 
Surrounded thus by bolus pill, 

And potion glasses. 

O what a canty warld were it, 
Would pain, and care, and sickness spare It; 
And fortune favour worth and merit, 

As they deserve: 
(And aye a rowih, roast-beef and claret; 

Syne wha v.'ad starve 1) 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISJJ. 169 

Dame Life, tlio' fiction out may trick her 
And in paste gems and frippery deck her: 
Oh ! flickering, feeble, and unsicker 

I've found her still, 
Ay wavering like tlie willow wicker, 

'Tween good and ill. 

Then that curst carmagnole, au!d Satan, 
Watches, like baudians by a rattan, 
Our siiifu' sauI to get a claut on 

VVi' felon ire ; 
Syne, whip ! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saul on, 

He's aff like tire. 

Ah ! Nick ! ah Nick ! it is na fair. 
First showing us the tempting w:uo, 
Bright wines and bonie lasses rare. 

To put us daft; 
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare, 

O' hell's damn'd waft. 
Poor man the flie, aft bizzics by. 
And aft as chance he comes thee nigh. 
Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi' joy, 

And hellish pleasure ;' 
Already in thy fancy's eye, 

Thy sicker treasure. 

Soon heels o'er gowdie : in he gangs. 
And like a sheep-head on a tangs, 
They girning laugh enjoy his pangs 
. ^ And murdering wrestle, 

Ab dangling in tlie wind, he hangs, 
A gibbet's tassel. 
But lest you think I am uncivil, , , 

To plague you with this draunting drivel I | 

Abjuring a' intentions evil, I 

Iquatmypen: 
The Lord preserve us frae the devil ! 
Amen I Amen ! 



TO MR. MITCHELL, 

COLLECTOR OF E.TCISE, DUMFRIES, 1796. 

Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, 
VVha warning tliee might beg or steal : 
Vol, I- M 



170 POEMS, 

Alake, alake, the meikle deil 

VVi' a' his witches 

Are at it, skelpin ! jig and rc«l, 

In my poor pouches. 

j I modestly, fu' fain wad hint it, 

That one pound one, I sairly want it ; 
If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it, 

{ I It would be kind ; 

; i And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted, 

I j I'd bear't in mind. 

i j So may the auld year gang out moaning 

j j To see the new come laden, groaning, 

j i Wi' double plenty o'er the loaning 

! ; To thee and thine ; 

! i Domestic peace and comforts crowning 

i I The hale design. 

■ I POSTSCRIPT. 

I i Ye've heard this while how I've been Ilcket, 

I j And by fell death was nearly nickel ; 

! I Grim loun ! he gat me by the fecket, 

i I And sair me sheuk ; 

! j But by good luck, I lap a wicket, 

i ( And lurn'd a neuk. 

i I But by that health, I've got a share o't, 

i i And by that life, I'm promis'd mair o't, 

j • My hale and weel I'll lake a care o't, 

I i A tentier way ; 

i j Then fareweel, folly, hide and hair o't, 

, I or ance and aye. 

i 

LETTER 

TO J S T T QL— NO—IU 

AuiD comrade dear and brither sinner, 
How's a' the folk about Gl— nc— r1 
How do you this blae eastlin wind, 
I ) That's like to blavv a body blind 1 

j I For me, my faculties are frozen, 

• I My dearest member nearly dozen'd; 

i I T'vv sent you here my Johnnie Sinison, 

j I Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on; 

j j smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling, 

I j /..r l-lcid 10 common sense appealing, 

\ I 

i! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. iTi 

Philosophers have fouglu an' wrangled, 
And iiieikle Greek ati' Laiin nianj^lcd, 
Till wi' tlit-'ir l<)t;ic-jai<.'oii tii'd. 
Aw" in ihe dcplh oi' science niir'd, 
T«> conunon sense lliey now n[)poal, 
VVliat wives and wahslers see an' feel: 
l?nl liatk ye, friend, 1 charge yon strictly, 
Terufie Ihein an' reluni ihcni quickly ; 
For now I'm fjrown sae cnrsfd douce, [ j 

1 pray an' j)onder//?!« Mie house, j j 

My riliins, my lane, I there sii joastin, j 

rerusinu I'.nnvan, I'rown, and l^oston ; i 

Til! hy an' by, if I hand on, | 

I'll j:runt a real Cospel ^noan ; j 

Already I be^'in to try it, ' 

To cast my een up iiki- a \^\v\, : 

When by the -un she tweibieso'er, I ! 

Flutt'ring an' gasping in her gore: j 

Sae hhorlly you shall see nie briu'lit, ! 

A burning an" a shining '.iglil. i 

My licart-warrn love tn f-iid auld Glen, j i 

The ace an' wale of honest men ; i i 

When bending down with auld gray hairs, i ! 

Beneath the load of years find cares, j ' 

May he who made him stili suji|)ort him, i j 

An' views beyond the grave comforl him. | ' 

His worthy family far and near, I 

God bless thcin a' wi' giace and gear. i 

My auUI school fellow, Preacher WiUie, ■ 

The manly tar, my mason Hiliie, } ■ 

An' Auchenbay, I wish him joy ; 1 1 

If he's a parent, lass or boy, ! : 

May he be dad, and Meg the niiiher, I 

Just five-an'-forty years th-i-iiher! j 

An' no forgetting vvabster Chaiiie, j 

I'm tauld he offers very fairly. ! 

An' L — d rer:iember sii-gir.g Sannock, j 

Wi' hale breeks, saxpencc an' a brjuiock [ i 

And next, my a;:'d a.'iii!;ii:i;aure, Nancy, ; 

Since she is (itlcd to her fancy ; I j 

An' her kind stars hae airted till her j j 

A c'lid chiel wi' a pickle silirr. ! 

My kindest, best respects I fc-w' it, { i 

To cousin Kale, an' sister Janet ; i j 

Tell tljem fiae me, wi' cliids be cautious, j : 

For faith, th'vM' :>ih'ins fm' fl'.e-n fashious' j | 

To grant a heart is f'aislv civil | : 



172 POEMSt 

But to grant a maidenhead's the devil 1 
An' lastly, Jamie, fur yoursel, 
May guardian angels lak a spell, 
An steer you seven miles south o' hell: 
But first, before you see heav'n's glory, 
May ye get monie a merry story, 
Monie a laugh and monie a drink, 
An' ay enough o' neudfu' clink. 

Now fare ye weel, an' joy be wi' you, 
For my sake this I beg it o' you, 
Assist poor Simson a' ye can, 
Ye'll fin' him just an honest man: 
Sae I conclude and quat my chanter, 
Your's, saint or sinner, 

ROB THE RANTER, 



TO THE QUID WIFE OF WAUCHOPE-HOUSE 

IN ANSWER TO AN EPISTLE WniCH SHE HAD SENT THE 
AUTHOR. 



Ouidwifcy 

I MIND it weel in early date, 

When I was beardless, young, and blate, 

And first could thresh the barn ; 
Or hand a yokin at the pleugh ; 
An' tho' for foughten sair enough, 

Yet unco proud to learn : 
When first amang the yellow corn 

A man I reckon'd was, 
And wi' the lave ilk merry morn. 
Could rank my rig and lass, 
Still shearing, and clearing 
I'.le tither stooked raw, 
Wi' claivers, an' haivers. 
Wearing the day awa. 

II. 

Ev'n then, a wish, I mind it's pow'r, 
A wish that to my latest hour, 

Shall strongly heave my breast, 
That I for poor auld Scotland's sake 
Some uspfu' plan or book could make, 

1 Jr sing a sang at least. 



- ,1 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 173 

The rough burr-thistle, spreading wide 

Amang the bearded bear, 
I turn'd the weeder-clips aside, 
An' spar'd ilie symbol dear; 
No nation, no station, 

ftly envy e'er could raise, { 

A Scot still, but blot still, | 

I knew nae higher praise. 

III. I 

But still the elements o' sang, i 

In formless jumble, right an' wrang, j 

Wild floated in my brain ; \ 

Till on that har'st I said before, \ 

My partner in the merrj' core, J 

She rous'd the forming strain ; i 

Iseeher yet, the sonsie quean, j 

That lighted up her jingle, j 

Her witching smile, her pauky e'en, 

That gar't my heart-strings tingle 

I fired, inspired. 

At every kindling keek. 
But bashing, and dashing, 
I feared ay to speak. 

IV. 

Hall to the set, ilk guid chiel saya, 

Wi' merry dance in winter-days, 

An' we to share in common : 



The gust o' joy, the balm o' wo, I 

The saul o' life, the heav'n below, I 

Is rapture-giving woman. I 

Ye surly sumphs, who hate the name, ! 

Be mindfu' o' your mither ; 

She, honest woman, may think shame j 

That ye' re connected with her ; j 

Ye're wae men, ye're nae men, i 

That slight the lovely dears ; \ 

To shame ye, disclaim ye, I : 

Ilk honest birkie swears. ! 

V. 

For you, na bred to barn or byre, 
Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre, 

Thanks to you for your line. 
The marled plaid ye kindly spare 
By me should gratefully be wart 

'Twad please me to tlie Nine. 



n* POEMS, 



I I'd be mair vauntie o' my liap, 
Douse hinging o'er my curple, 

I Than onie ermine ever lap, 

I I Or proud imperial purple. 

i i Fareweel then, laiig hale then, 

! I An' plenty tie your fa' : 

; i May losses and crosses 

j i Ne'er at your hallan ca'. 

1 1 JlJarch, 1787. R. BURNS. 



TO J. R^JVKEJ^, 

ON HIS WRITING TO THE AUTHOR THAT A GIRL WAS WITH 

CHILD BY IIIM. 



I AM a keeper of the law 
In some sma' points, altho' not a' ; 
Some people tell me gin 1 fa', 

Ac way or ither. 
The breaking of ae point, tho' sma', 

Breaks a' thegither. 

I hae been In for't ance or twice, 
And winna say o'er far for thrice, 
Yet never met with that surprise 

That broke my rest, 
But now a rumour's like to rise, 

A whaup's i' the nest 



j j TO AN ILLEGITIMATE CHILD. 

i Tnnu's welcome, wean, miehantet fa' me, 

i If aught of thee, or of thy mammy, 

1 1 Shall ever danton nie, or awe me, 

I j My sweet wee lady, 

j ! Or if I bUish wlien thou shalt ca' me 

j I Tit-ta or daddy 

j i Wen imatro of my bonle Betty, 

1 I fatherly will kiss an' daut thee, 

I As dear an' npar my heart I set thee 

! Wi' as gude will 

J I As n' the priests had seen me get thee 

' i That's out 0' li-U. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 171 

What tho' they ca' me fornicator, 
An' tease my name in kintry-clatter ; 
The mair they tauk I'm Rent the better, 

E'en let them clash ; 
An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter 

To gie ane fash. 

Sweet fruit o' monie a merry dint, 
"My funny tiel is now a' tint; 
Sin' thou came to the warl asklent, 

Which fools may scoff at; 
In my last plack thy part's be in't — 
The better half o't. 

An' if thou be what I wad hae thee, 
An' tak the counsel I shall gie thee, 
A lovin father I'll be to thee, 

If ihou be spar'd 
Thro' a' thy childish years I'll e'e thee, 

An' think't weel war'd. 

Gude grant that thou may ay inherit 
Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit, 
An' thy poor worthless daddy's spirit, 

Without his failing, 
'Twill please me mair to hear an' see'!, 
Than stocket mailins. 



TO A TAILOR, 



n iLNSWKR TO AM EPISTLE WHICH HE HAD SENT THI 

AUTHOR. 

What ails ye now, ye lousie b — h. 
To thresh my back at sic a pitch 1 
Loah man ! hae mercy wi' your natch. 

Your bodkin's bauld, 
1 did na suffer half sae much 
Frae daddy Auld. 

What Iho' at times when I grow crouse, 
I gie their wames a random pouse, 
b that enough for you to souse 
Your servant sae "? 
Oae mind your seam, ye prick the louse, 
An' jag the flae. 



n 

I ! 178 FORMS, 



King David o' poetic brief, 
Wrought 'mang the lasses sic mischief 
As fill'd his after life \vi' grief 
An' bloody rants, 
An' yet he's rank'd aniang the cliief 

iang syne saunts. 

And, may be, Tarn, for a' my cants, 
My wicked riiynies, an' drucken rantS; 
I'll gie auld cloven Clooty's haunta 

An unco slip yet. 
An' snugly sit amang tiie saunts, 

At Davie's hip yet. 

But fegs, the session says I maun 
Gae fa' upo' aniiiicr plan, 
Tlian garren lasses cowp the cran 

Clean heels owre body, 
And eairly thole their niiihera' ban 

Afore the howdy. 

This leads me on, to tell for sport 
How I did with the session sort — 
Auld CUnkum at the inner port 

Cry'd three times, " Robin ? 
Come hither, lad, an' answer for't. 

Ye're blam'd for jobbin." 

Wi' pinch I put a Sunday's face on, 
An' snoov'd awa' before the session — 
I made an open, fair confession, 

1 scorn'd to lie; 

An' syne Mess John, beyond expression, 
Fell foul o" nie. 

A fornicator loun he call'd me. 
An' said my faut frae bliss expell'd mej 
I own'd the tale was true he tell'd me, 
" But what the matter," 
Quo' I, " I fear unless ye geld m&, 
I'll ne'er be better.' 

" Geld you !" quo' he, "and whatfore iu\ 
If that your right hand, leg or toe, 
Should ever prove your sp'ritual foe. 
You sliou'd remember 
T) cut it aff, and whatfore no 

Your dearest member." 

•' Na, Na," quo' I, '' I'm no for thai. 
Gelding's nae better than 'tis ca't. 



C.HIE FLY SCO TTISH. ITi 

I'd rather sufler for my faut, 

A hearty flewit 
As sair owre hip as ye can araw't ! 

Tho' I should rue it. 

" Or gin ye like to end the bother 
To please us a' I've just ae ither, 
When next wi' yon lass I forgather 

Whate'er betide it, 
I'll frankly gie her't a' ihegither, 

An' let her guide it." 

But, Sir, this pleas'd them warst ava. 
An' therefore, Tam, when that I saw, 
I Eaid " Gude night," and cam awa', 

An' left the session ; 
I saw they were resolved a' 

On my oppression. 



TO MR. WILLI^^M TYTLER. 

^V^TH A PORTRAIT OF THE AtJTHOR. 

Revered defender of beauteous Stuart, 

Of Stuart, a name once respected, 
A name, which to love was the mark of a true heart, 

But now 'tis despised and neglected. 

Tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye, 

Let no one misdeem me disloyal ; 
A poor friendless wanderer may well claim a sigh. 

Still more, if that wand'rer were royal. 

My fathers that name have rever'd on a throne; 

My fathers have fallen to right it ; 
Those fathers would spurn their degenerate son, j 

That name should he scoffingly slight it. I 

Btill in prayers for K— G— I most heartily joIb, 

The Q — , and the rest of the gentry. 
Be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of min«g j 

Their title's avow'd ty my country. 1 



Bat why of this epocha make such a ftiss, 



rs P0E.M3^ 

But loycilty, uuce ! we're on dangerous groun^ 

Who knows how tlie fasliions may alter 1 
The doctrine to-day tliat is loyally sound, 
To-niorrovv may iiring us a halter. 

1 send you a triile, a isead of a hard, 

A trlrts fc-earce vvortliy your care, 
But accept it, good sir, as a mark of regard. 

Sincere as a saint's dying prayer. 

Now life's chilly evening dim shades on your eye, 

And ushers the long dreary niglit ; 
But you.iike the star that athwart gilds the sky, 

Your c&urse to the latest is brisht. 



KPISTLK 

TO R. GRAHAM, ESq. OF FINTRA. 

When Nature her great masterpiece deaign'd. 
And fram'd her last, best work, the human mind, 
Her eye intent on all the mazy plan. 
She form'd of various parts the various man. 

Then first slie calls the u«cful maiiy forth ; 
Plain, plodding industry, and sober vvotlh ; 
Thence peasants, farmers, native sons of earth, 
And merchandise, whole genus take their birth ; 
Each prudent cit a warm existence finds, 
And ail mechanics' many aprond kinds. 
Some other rarer sorts are wanted yet, 
Tlif 'oad and buoy are needful to I lie net ; 
The caput mortuum of gross desires 
Slakes a material for mere knighLs and squires ; 
The martial phosphorus is taught to flow, 
She kneads tlie lumpish, philosophic dough, 
Then marks th' unyielding mass with grave dcsJ^os 
Law, physics, politics, and deep divine?; 
Last she sublimes the Aurora of the potea. 
The flashing elements of female souls. 

The order'd system fair before her stood, 
Nature, wi-ii pleas'd, pronounced it very gocni; 
But ere she gave creating labour o'er, 
Half jf'.st, she tried one curious laNiur inoie 
Borne spumy, fiery, ignis futuuji matter ; 
Such as the slightest' breath of air might ecaf5?s;. 
Wi;h arch alacrity »indconscsoiw^le9 



CHIEFLY SCOTTLiB. 179 

i Nature «iay have her whim as well as we, | 

ler Hogarth-art perhaps she meant to sliow it,) \\ 

She forms the thinjf, and christens it — a poet. ; I 

Creature, tliough oft the prey of care and sorrow, \ 

When blest to-day unmindful of to-morrow. ; I 

A being form'd to amuse his graver friends, ' i 

Admir'd and prais'd — and there the homage ends ; 'I 

A mortal quite unfit for fortune's strife, 1^ 

Yet oft the sport of all the iils of life ; 
Prone to enjoy each pleasure riches give, 
Yet haply wanting wherewithal to live ; 
Longing to wipe each tear, to heal each groan, 
Yet frequent all unheeded in his own. 

But honest Nature is Jiot quite a Turi€, 
She laugh'd at first, then felt for her poor work, 
Pitying the propless climber of mankind. 
She -cast about a standard-tree to find ; 
And, to support his helpless woodbine state, 
Attach'd him to the g-cnerous, truly great, 
A title, and the only one I claim. 
To lay strong hold for help on bounteous Graham. 

Pity the tuneful Muses' hapless train, 
Weak, timid landmen on iife's stormy main ! 
Their hearts no selfish, stern, absorbent stufl", 
That neither gives — though humbly takes enough 
The little fate allows, they share as soon. 
Unlike sage, proverb'd Wisdom's hai-d-wrung boon. 
The world v.'ere bless'd did bliss on them depend. 
Ah ! that " the friendly e'er should want a friend ! " 
Let prudence number o'er each sturdy son, 
Who life and wisdom at one race begun. 
Who feel by reason, and who give by rule, 
(Instinct's a brute, and sentiment a fool !) 
Who make poor will do wait upon I should — 
We own they're prudent, but who feels they're good? 
Ye wise ones, lience ! ye hurt the social eye ! 
God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy ! * 
But come ye who the godlike pleasure know, 
Heaven's attribute distinguish'd — to bestow! 
Whose arms of love would grasp the human race} 
Come thou who giv'st with all a courtier's grace ; 
Friend of my life, true patron of my rhymes ! 
Prop of my dearest hope for future times. 
Why shrinks my soul half-blushing, half-afraid^ 
Backward, abashed to ask tliy friendly aid.' 
I know my need, I know thy giving hand, 
I crave tiiy friendship at thykiml command ; 



130 POEMS, 

But there are such who court the tuneful nine— 

Heavens! should the branded character be mine, 

Whose verse in manhood's pride subHmely flows, 

Yet vilest reptiles in their begging prose, 

Marl?, how their lofty, independent spirit 

Soars on the spurning wing of injured merit ! 

Seelt not the proofs in private life to find ! 

Pity, the hest of words should be but wind ! 

So to heaven's gates the lark's shrill song ascenda, 

But grovelling on the earth the carol ends. 

In all the clamorous cry of starving want, 

They dun benevolence with shameful front ; 

Oblige them, patronise their tinsel laya. 

They persecute you all your future days! 

Ere my poor soul such deep damnation stain, 

My horny fist assume the plough again ; 

The piebald jacket let me patch once more ; 

On eighteen pence a week I've liv'd before. 

Though thanks to heaven, I dare even that last shld; 

I trust, meantime, my boon is in thy gift ; 

That placed by thee upon the v/ished-for height, 

Where, Man and Nature fairer in her sight. 

My Muse may imp her wing for some sublimer flight 



j TO THE S^ME, 

' I Late crippled of an arm, and now a leg, 

j About to beg a pass for leave to beg^ 

I Dull, listless, teased, dejected and deprest, 

I (Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest.) 

' Will generous Graham list to his Poet's wall 1 

I i (It sooths poor Misery hearkening to her tale) 

j j And hear him curse the light he first surveyed, 

j I And doubly curse the luckless, rhyming trade I 



li 



Thou, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign ; 
Of thy caprice maternal I complain. 
The lion and the bull thy care have found. 
One shakes the forest, and one spurns the ground ; 
Thou gi'st the ass his hide, the snail his shell, 
Th' envenom'd wasp, victorious, guards his cdL 
Thy minions, kings, defend, control, devour 
In all th' omnipotence of rule Hiid fiowcr. 
Foxes and statesmen, subtle wiles insiire ; 
The cit and polecat stink, and are secure. 
Toads with their poison, doctors with llielt drug, 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 181 \ 

The priest and hedgehog in their robes are snug. 

Ev'n gUIy woman has her warlike arts, 

Her tongue and eyes, her dreaded spear and darts. 

But oh! the bitter step- mother, and hard, 
To thy poor fenceless, naked child— the Bard, 
A thing unteachable in world's skill, 
And half an idiot too, more helpless still. 
No heels to bear hhn from the ojj'ning dun ; 
No claws to dig, his hated sight to shun ; 
No horns, but those by luckless Kymen worn, 
And those, alas ! not Amallliea's horns: 
No nerves olfact'ry. Mammon's trusty cur, 
Clad in rich duiness, comfortable fur, 
In naked feeling, and in aching pride, 
lie bears th' unbroken blast from ev'ry side ; 
Vampyre booksellers drain him to tlie heart, 
And scorpion critics cureless venom dart. 

Critics— appall'd I venture on the name. 
Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame : 
Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Monroes ; 
He hacks to teach, they mangle to expose. 

His heart by causeless, wanton malice wrung. 
By blockheads' daring into madness stung; 
His well-won bays, than life itself more dear, 
By miscreants torn, who ne'er one sprig must wear: 
Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd in the unequal strife, 
The hapless Poet flounders on thro' life, 
Till fled each hope that once his bosom fir'd. 
And fled each Muse that glorious once inspir'd, 
Low sunk in squalid, unprotected age, 
Dead, even resentment, for his injur'd page. 
He heeds or feels no move the ruthless critic's rage ! 

So, by some Itedge, the generous steed deceas'd, 
For half-starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast ; 
By toil and famine wore to skin and bone, 
Lie senseless of each tuggin bitch's son. 

O Duiness ! portion of the truly blest ; 
Calm shelter'd haven of eternal rest ! 
Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes 
Of Fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams. 
If mantling high she fills the golden cup, 
With sober, selfish ease they sip it up ; 
Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve, 
They only wonder ' some folks" do not starve. 
The grave sane Itet ■■ lUns easy picks his frojj. 



\r- 



• 182 POEMS, 

i And thl.iks the mallard a sad, worthless dog. 

i When disapponitment snaps the clue of hoj)e, 

[ ! And thro' disastrous night they darkling grope, 

'l j With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear, 

; ! And just conclude that " Tools are Fortune's carc" 

I ! So, heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks, 
Strong on tlie sign-post stands the stupid oi. 

Not so the idle Muses, mad-cap train, 
Not such the workings of their uioon-siruck brain] 
In equanimity they never dwell. 
By turns in soaring heav'n or vaulted hell. 

I dread thee, Fate, relentless and severe, 
! i With all a Poet's, Husband's, Father's fear ! 

i 1 Already one strong hold of hope is lost, 

j I Glkncairn, the truly noble, lies in dust ; 

I j (Fled, like the sun eclips'd at noon appears, 

I I And left us darkling in a world of tears ;) 

I O ! hear my ardent, grateful, selfish pray'r ! 

j FiNTRA, my other stay, long ble^-s and spare ! 

( 1 TJiro' a long life his hopes and wishes crown ; 

j '; And bright in cloudless skies his sun go down ! 

{ j Rlay bliss domestic smooth his private path ; 

! ! Give energy to life, and sooth Jiis latest breaih, 

j ' With many a filial tear circling the bed of de*ttk 



i TO THE SJ3ME, 

\ ON RECEIVINQ A FAVOUR, 

1 1 I CALL no goddess to inspire my strains, 

1 1 A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns ; 

i ■ Friend of my life ! my ardent spirit burn^ 

I j And all the tribute of my heart returns, 

I i For boons accorded, goodness ever new; 

I i The gift stiU dearer, as the giver you. 

'; • Thou orb of day, thou other paler lieht ! 

! j And all ye many sparkling stars of night ; 

I ; If aught that giver from my mind efface ; 

y i If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace ; 

t : Then roll to me, along your wandering 8pherc«, 

! ■ Only to number out a villain's years i 



CHIEtLT SCOTTISH. 
TO A GENTLEMAN 

WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD OFFENDED 

The friend whom wild from wisdom's way 
The fumes of wine infuriate send ; 

(Not moony madness more astray ;) 
Who but deplores that hapless friend 1 

Mine was the insensate frenzied part. 
Ah why should I such scenes outlive 1 

Scenes so abhorrent to my heart ! 
'Tis thine to pity and forgive. 



TO A OEIfTLEMAJf 

I SAD 8EMT HIM A NEWSPAPER, AND OFFBRBO TO 
COMTINDE IT FREE OF EXPENSE. 

Kind Sir, I've read your paper through, 

And failh, to me, 'twas really new ! 

How guess'd ye, Sir, what maist I wanted ? 

This monie a day I've grain'd and gaunted, 

To ken what French mischief was brewin ; 

Or what the drumblie Dutch were doing; 

That vile doup-skelper, Emperor Joseph, 

If Venus yet had got his nose off; 

Or how tJie collieshangie works 

Alween the Russians and the Turks 

Or if the Swede, before he halt. 

Would play nnither Charles the Twalt ; 

If Denmark, any body spak o't; 

Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't ; 

How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin, ! I 

How libbet Italy was singin ; | ! 

If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss, j J 

Where sayin or takin aught amiss 

Or how our merry lads at hame, 

In Britain's court kept up the game, 

How royal George, the Lord leuk o'er him 

Was managing St Stephen's quorum ; 

If Bleekit Chatham Will was livin, 

Or glaikit Charlie got liis nieve in ; 

How daddie Burke the plea was cookfn, 

If Warren Hastings' neck was yeukin ; 

How cesses, stents, and fees wfx^ rax'd, 



JM POEjIIS, 

Or if bare a— ses yet were lax'd ; 
The news o' princes, dukes, and earla, 
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera-giilB^ 
If that daft buckie, Geordie W***b, 
Was threshin still at hissies' tails, 
Or if he has grown oughtlins douser. 
And no a perfect kintra cooser, 
A' this and mair 1 never heard of; 
And but for you I might despair'd of 
So, gratefu', back your news I send you, 
And pray, a' guid tilings may attend yoa! 
FMisland, 179n. 



SKETCH, 

TO MRS. DUNLOP, ON A NEW VEAR'S DAT. 

Tins day. Time winds the exhausted chain. 
To run the twelvemonth's length again ; 
I see the auld bauld-pated fellow, 
With ardent eyeg, complexion sallow, 
Adjust the uuimpair'd machine, 
To wheel the equal, dull routine. 

Tlie absent lover, minor heir, 
In vain assail him with their prayer ; 
Deaf as my friend, he sees them press, 
Nor makes the hour one moment less. 
Will you (the Major's with the hounds, 
The happy tenants share his rounds ; 
Coila's fair Rachel's care to-day. 
And blooming Keith's engaged with Gray) 
From housewife cares a minute borrow — 
That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow— • 
And join with me a moralizing, 
This day's propitious to be wise in. 
First, what did yesternight deliver ? 
" Another year is gone for ever." 
And what is this day's strong suggestion, 
" The passing moment's all we rest on !" 
Rest on— for what do we here ? 
Or why regard the passing year ? 
Will time, amus'd with proverb'd lore, 
Add to our date one minute more 1 
A few days may— a few years must- 
Repose us in the silent dust. 



CUIEFL Y SCO TTISH. IBS 



j ' rhen is it wise to damp our bliss ? 



! I Ves— all such reasonings are 

; I riie voice of nature loudly cries, 

j I And many a message from the skies, 

That something in us never dies : 
That on this frail, uncertain state, 
Hang matters of eternal weight ; 
That future life, in worlds imknown. 
Must take its h>'e from this alone ; 
Whether as heavenly gloiy bright, 
Or dark as qiisery's woful night.— 
Since then, ray honour' d, first of friends, 
On this poor being all depends ; 
Let us the important now employ. 
And live as those that never die. 
Tlio' you, with days and honours crown'd, 
Witness that filial circle round, 
(A sight life's sorrows to repulse, 
A sight pale envy to convulse,) 
Otliers now claim your chief regard ; 
Yourself, you wait your bright i 



J'HE AVLD FARMER'S 

MWTIAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE, HAOaiB, 

On giving her the accustomed rip of com to hansel 
in the Jfeto Year. 
A GTHD NEW YEAR I wish thee, Maggie ! 
Hae, there's a rin to thy auld baggie : 
Tho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggle, 

I've seen the day 
Thou could hae gaen like onie staggie 
Out-owre the lay. 
Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy, 
An' thy auld hide's as white's a dsusy, 
I've seen thee dappl'd, sleek and glaizie, 

A bonie gray ; 
He should been tight that daur't to raise thee 
Ance in a day. 
Thou ance was i' the foremost rank, 
A filly, buirdly, steeve an' swank. 
An' set wecl down a shapeless shank. 

As e'er tread yird. 
An' could hae flewn out-owre a stank, 
liike onie bird. 
Vol. I. N 



]SB POEMSt 

It's now 8ome nine-an' -twenty year, 
Sin* thou was my guid father's meere; 
He gied me thee, o' tocher clear. 

An' fifty mark ; 
Tho' it was snia' 'twas weel-won gear, 

An' thou was etark. 

When first I gaed to woo my Jenny, 
Ye then was troliin wi' your niinnie; 
Though ye was trickle, slee, an' funnie. 

Ye ne'er was donsie ; 
But hamely, lavvie, quiet, an' cannie, 

An' unco sonsie. 

That day, ye pranced wi' muckle pride, 
When ye bure hame my bonie bride; 
An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride, 

Wi' maiden air ! 
Kyle Stewart I could braggead wide, 

For sic a pair. 

Though now ye dow but hoyte and liobble, 
An' wintle lilte a saumont cobble, 
That day ye was a j inker noble, 

For heels an' win' I 
An' ran them till they a' did wauble. 
Far, far beliin'. 

When thou an' I were young an' ekelgh, 
An' stable meals at fair were dreigh, 
How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skreigh* 

An' tak the road ! 
Town's bodies ran, and stood abeigh, 

An' ca't thee mad. 

Wlien thou was com't, an' I was melloWf 
We took the road ay like a swallow ; 
At Brooses thou had ne'er a fellow, 

For pith an' speed ; 
But ev'ry tale thou pay't them hollow 

Where'er thou gaed. 

The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter-cattle, 
Might aiblins waurt thee for a brattle; 
But sax Scotch miles, thou try't their mettle 

An' gar't them whaizle: 
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle 

O' saugh or hazeL 

Thou was a noble /tfie-Ian*, 
hs e'er in tug or tow was drawn ! 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 187 

AA thoe an^ I, in aught hours gaun, 

On guid March -weather, 
Hce turaM sax rood beside our han' 

For days thegiiher. 
Thou never braindg't, an' fech't, an' fliskiti 
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit, 
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket, 

Wi' pith and pow'r, 
Tld spritty knowes wad rair't and risket, 

An slypet owre. 
When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep. 
An' tlireaten'd labour back to keep, 
I gled thy cog a weep-bit heap 

Aboon tlie timmer; 
I kcnn'd my Maggie wad na sleep 

For that, or simmer. 
In cart or car thou never restit ; 
The Bteyest brae thou wad hae fac'd it: 
Thou never lap, and sten't and breastit, 

Then stood to blaw ; 
But Just thy step a wee thing hastit, 

Thousnoov'tawa. 
Wyphugh is now thy bairn-time a' ; 
Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw ; 
Forbye sax mae, I've sell't awa, 

That thou hast nurst ; 
They drew mc thretteen pund an' twa. 

The very warst. 
Monie a sair daurk we twa hae wrought, 
An' wi' the weary warl' fought ! 
An' monie an anxious day, I thought 

We wad be beat; 
Tet here to crazy age we're brought, 

Wi' something yet. 
An' think na, my auld trusty servan', 
That now perhaps thou's less deservin, 
An' thy auld days may end in slarvin, 

For my last/o«, 
A beapit ttimpart, Tl! reserve ane 

Laid by for you. 

We've worn to crazy vears thegitlier ; 
We'll toytc about wi' ane anither; 
Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether 

To some hain'd riff, 
Whare ye may nobly rax yous meatier 
Wi' Bma' fajigirs. 



POEMS, 



THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OP POOE 
MAILIE, 

THE author's only PKT TOWB. 

jJn unco moumfu' Tale. 

As Mailie an' her lambs thegither. 
Where ae day nibbling on the tether, 
Upon her cloot she coost a hitch, 
An' owre she warsl'd in the ditch ; 
There, groaning, dying, she did lie, 
When Hughoc* he came dojrtin by. 

Wi' glowrin een, an' lifted ban's. 
Poor Hughoc like a statue Stan's ; 
He saw her days were near-hand ended. 
But, waes my heart ! he could na mend It ! 
He gaped wide, but naething spak, 
At length poor Mailie silence brak. 

" O thou, whase lamentable fece, 
Appears to mourn my wofu' case ! 
My 6.yxag words attentive hear. 
An' bear them to my master dear. 

" Tell him, if e'er again he keep 
As muckle gear as buy a sheep, 
O, bid him never tie them mair 
Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair ! 
But ca' them out to park or hill. 
An' let them wander at their will ; 
So may his flock increase, an' grow 
To scores o' lambs, an' packs o' WOO* ! 

" Tell him he was a master kln\ 
An' ay was guid to me and mine ; 
An' now my dying charge I gie Mm, 
My helpless lambs I trust them wi' blm> 

»* O, bid him save their harmless llv«i 
Frae dogs, an' tods, an' butchers' knives} 
But gie them guid cow-milk their fill, 
Till they be fit to fend themsel ; 
An* tent them duly, e'en an' morn, 
Wr teats o' hay an' rips o' com. 



♦ A neighbour herd-etUlan. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 189 

" An' may they never learn the gaets 
Of ither vile wanrestfu' pets! 
To Blink thro' slaps, an' reave, an' steal, 
At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail. 
So may they, like their great forbears. 
For manie a year come thro' the shears ; 
So wives will gie them bits o' bread, 
An* bairns greet for them when they're dead. 

•* My poor toop-lamb, my son an' heir, 
O, bid him breed him up wi' care ! 
An', if he live to be a beast, 
To pit some bavins in his breast ! 
An' warn him what I winna name, 
To stay content wi' yowes at hame ; 
An' no to rin an' wear his cloots, 
Like ither menseless, graceless brutea 

" An' niest my yowie, silly thing. 
Gude keep thee frae a tether-string, 
O, may thou ne'er forgather up 
Wi' ony blastit, moorland toop ; 
But ah keep mind to nioop an' mcll 
Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! 

•' And now, my bairns, wi' my last breath, 
I lea'e my blessin wi' you baith ; 
An' when you think upo' your mither, 
Mind to be kin' to ane anither. 

" Now, honest Hughoc, dinna fail, 
To tell my master a' my tale ; 
An' bid him burn this cursed tether. 
An', for thy pains, thous'e get my blether." 

This said, poor Mailie tum'd her head. 
An' clos'd her een amang the dead. 

POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY. 

Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, 
Wi' eaut tears trickling down your noMt 
Our bardie's fate is at a close, 

Past a' remead ; 
The last sad cap-stane of his woes ; 

Poor Maine's dead ! 
It's no the loss o' warl's gear. 
That could sae bitter draw the tear. 
Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear 

The mourning weed ; 
He's lost a friend and neebor dear 

In Mailie dead. 



I 

i 1 

; ! 

i ■ i 

j 190 POEMS, CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. j 

\ j Through a' the toun she trotted by him, 

i ! A lang half mile slie could descry him ; 

Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy bim, 

She ran wi' speed ; 
A friend mair faithtu' ne'er cam nigh him. 
Than Mailie dead. 

I wat she was a sheep o' sense, 
An' could behave hcrsel wi' niense ; 
I'll say't she never brak a fence, 
I Thro' thievish greed ; 

Our bardie, lanely, keeps the spence 
Sin' Maine's dead. 

Or, if he wanders up the howc, 
Her living image in her yovve. 
Comes bleating to him, owre the knowe, 

For bits o' bread ; 

An' down the briny pearls rowe, 

For Mailie 'lead. 

She was nae get o' moorland tips, 
Wi' lawted ke an' hairy hips ; 
For her forbears were brought in shipf 

Frae yont the Tweed : 
A bonier fleesh ne'er cross'd the clipi 

Than Mailie dead. 

Was worth the man wha first did aH&pe 
That vile, wanchancie thing — a rape! 
It maks guid fellows girn an gape, 

Wi' chockin bread ; 
An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape, 

For Mailie dead. 

O, a' ye bards on bonie Doon ! 
An' who on Ayr your chanters tune I 
Come join the melancholious crooD 

O' Robin's reed ! 
His heart will never get aboon ! 

His Mailie dead. 



BRD Of VOL. t 



i! 

i H 

I I i 

i THE ' ' 

POETICAL WORKS 

^ ROBERT BURNS 

i <\ 

' iNCLUDipra 

' SEVERAL PIECES i 

I I 

NOT INSERTED IN DR. CURRIE'S EDITION i 

j 

EXHIBITED UNDER i 

A NEW PLAN OF ARRANGEMENT, 

AND PRECEDED BT 

A LIFE or THE AUTHOR 

AND 

A COMPLETE GLOSSARY. 

I 

TWO VOLUMES IN ONE. ' 

Vol. II. 



BOSTON: 
PHILLIPS AND SAMPSON, 

110 Washington Street. 
1849. 



CONTENTS 

OF THE SECOND VOLUME. 
BOOK IV. 



HUMOROUS, SATIRICAL, EPIGRAMMATICAL, AND 

MISCELLANEOUS. 



Page 



Tam O^Shanter ...... 

Halloween .... 

The Jolly Beggars 

Death and Dr. Hornbook .... 

ji Dream ....... 

Scotch Drink ..... 

The AiUhor^s Earnest Cry a-Kd Prayer . 

Address to the Dell . . . • 

On the late Captain Orose^s Feregrinations through 

Scotland, collecting the Anth{uities of that Kingdom . 
Lines, loritten in a wrapper, inr.losing a letter to Captain 

Orose ..... 
Epigram on Captain Orose 
Lines nn an Interview with Lord Dacr 
The Inventory • » • 

To a Louse, on seeing one on a Lady''s Bonnet at Church 
Address to the Tooth-ache 
To a Haggis ... 
The Holy Fair .... 
The Ordination . . • . 

Address to the Unco Guid, or the Rigidly Righteous 
The Twa Herds . . • • 

The Calf 

Holy fVdlie^s Prayer .... 

Epitaph on Holy fVillie 

The Kirk's Alarm .... 

Letter to John Qoudie Kilmarnock 

A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esquire 

Lines addressed to Jilr, John Ranken 

, written by Burns, while on his Death-bed, to the 

same. ..... 



It COXTEJ^TS. 

Pa-re 

Extempore, on the late JUr. William Smelh'e . . 86 

' ,atameetivg of the Dumfriesshire fohinfcers ib. 

■, to Mr. ir**e, on refusing to dine with hiw, 

after having been promised tkejirist of Company, and 
the first of Cookery .... 87 

-,to Mr. S**e, uiith a present of a dozen of 



Porter 

-fWrittenin answcrti a Card from an intimate 



■ i of the author, inviting kivi to spend an hour at a 
! j Tavern ...... ib. 

j I , written in a Lady^s Pocket Book . ib. 

\\ lAnes, on Jtfiss J. Scott, of .^'ii/r ... 83 

! i , 078 heimr ashed, IVhy Clod had made Miss Davis 

h so Utile, and Miss* '**, so larp-e . . . ib. 

I f , icritten under the picture of the celebrated Miss 

'■ • Burns ...... ib. 

i ! , written andpresented to Mrs. Kcmhle, on seeing 

: ! her in the character of Ya^ico . . . ib. ' 

'. i , written on IVindows of the Globe Tax'cm, Dum, 

\\ fries ...... 89 

I I • , written on a JVindow, at the King's Jlrms Tavern, 

\ Dumfries . . . . . . ib. 

'. I d verse, presented by the Jluthor to the Master of a 

: ! House, at a place in the Highlands, xohcre he had been 

\ ] hospitably entertained . . . . VJi 

I i Epigram on the neglect of an Innkeeper . . ib. 
•' I on Elphinstone's Translation cf Martial's 

: : Epigrams ...... ib. 

■ j Verses written on a Window of the Tnn at Carron . ib. 

I I Epitaph on a Crlcbrated Ruling Elder . . '.H 

\ j on a J\rjisy Polemic .... ib. 

: I on Wee Johnny .... ib. 

' j for Q. H. Esq. . » . . . ib. 

\ 1 on a Wag in Mauchlins ... 92 

! { on .Tohn Dove, Innkeeper, Mauchline . ib, 

I j on Walter S***** . . . ib. 

, i on a Henpecked Country Squire . . 1^3 

1 i Epigrim on said occasion . . ' . ib. 

1 ' .Another • • . . . . . t*. 

j j On the Death of a Lap-dog, named Echo . • ib. 

;i Inivromptu on Jtfrs. ***'*''3 birth Day , . 94 

}' Monody on a Lady famed for her Capnct « ib, 

! I The Kjpitaph . . . . . .95 

' i Ole. Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. ****, of , ib, 

; I The Henpecked Ilu/band . . .96 

i } EUgy on the year 17S3 . - . , ih. 

\ t Tarn Snnipsou't Elegy . . . . .87 

i I / U Epuaph . . . . .100 



coMTEjrrs. V 

Page. 
On a Scotch Bard gone to the West Indies , . J0i5 

On PaHoral Poetry . . • . .105 

Proloffue, spoken at the Thzatre, Ellisland, en Kevo- 

Year's Day F.veniJijr . . . . • 106 

, spoken by Mr. Woods, on his benefit night 107 

Tke Ih/r/its of ti'oman, an Occasional Address spoken 

by J\haS Fontencllc, on her benefit night . . 103 

Address, spoken by J\fiss Fontenelle, on her benefit night, 

at the 7'hi2trc, Dumfries . , . • 309 

Fratrmeut inscribed to the Right Honourable C. J. Foz 110 
Instnption for an Jiltar to Independence . • HI 

Address to Edinburgh . . . .112 



BOOK V. 

EONGS AND BALLADS. 

£ Visivv 114 

Bannochhurn—Bruce''» Address to his Jinny . 115 

Song of Death . . . ' . .116 

Imitation of an Old Jacobite Song . . ib. 

The Lovely Lass of Inverness .... 117 
The Absent Warrior. — " O Logan, sweetly didst thou 

glider . . . . . . • ib. 

Ike Warrior's /.'/.£«m.— " JFhcn wild War^s deadly 

blast was biawn" ..... 118 

Lord Gregory ...... 120 

Open the Door to me, oh . . . ib. 

The Entreaty.—^' Let rue in this ae nighf^ . . 121 

The Answer. — " O tell na me o' wind and rain''' . ib. 

Tke Forlorn Lover— ^' Forlorn, my love, no comfort 

near'' . . . . . . 128 

The Dreary J^fght . . . , . 123 

Poortith Cnuld . . . . . . ib. 

Clarinda ...... 124 

Isabella—^'' Having winds around her blowing.,^* . 125 

Wandering Willie . . . . . ib. 

The Parting Kiss . . . . .120 

The Roaring Ocean ..... ifc. 

Fair Eliza— '* T^rn again, thou fair Eliza" . .127 

F.liia.—^^ Farewell thou stream that winding flows'* ib. 
Departure of J^ancy ..... 128 

My J^amiic's awa ..... 129 

(fUoviy December . . . . , ib. 

Tht Hracs o' Ballochmyle . . . .130 

bi.n.U 6' Doon . . . . <ft. 



vi COjYTKjYrS. 

Page 
Cragie-burii ..... • 131 

ne Cheerless Soul. — " .3gain rejoicing JVature sees " ib. 
The Disconsolate Lover. — " JVoio Spring has clad the 

groves in green " . . . . .132 

Jilary Morrison ..... 133 

Fair Jenny. — " Where are the joys I have met in the 

morning "....•• 134 

. Address to the Woodlark . . . . ib. 

Fragment in JVitherspoon's Collection of Scottish Songs 135 
Address to a Lady . , , . . . ib. 

TheAuldMan ..... 136 

John .Anderson my jo . . . . . ib. 

Auld Lang Syne . . . . . ] 37 

Hopeless Love. — ^^ Blithe hae I been on yon hill" . 138 

Banks of J\rith . . . . . i&. 

Banks of Cree . . . . . .139 

Castle Gordon . . . . . ib. 

Afton Water 140 

The S.icred Vow. — " By Allan stream I chanced to rove " ib. 
The Rigs o' Barley . . . . .141 

The Lea-Rig 142 

The Lass o' Ballochinyle ..... 143 

1 Bonie Lesley . . . . . .144 

I Bonie Jean. — " There teas a lass, and she was fair " . 145 

To Jeanie. — " Come, let me taJce thee to my breast " . 146 
Dainty Davie ...... ib. 

Lovely Jfancy. — " Thine am I, my faithful fair " . 147 

Clouden Knoices ..... 148 

To Chloris . . . . . . .149 

Chloris ...... ib. 

Lassie wV the llnhshite locks .... 150 

This is no my ain Lassie .... 151 

Jessy. — " Here^s a health to ane I We dear " . . ib. 

The birks of Aberfeldy . . . .152 

The Rose-bud . . . . . .153 

Peggy's Charms. — " When braving angry Winter's 

storms " . . . . . . . ib. 

The blissful Day. — " The day returns, my bosom bums " 154 
Constancy. — " O were I on Parnassus' hill .'" . . ib. 

Lovely Jean. — " Of a' the airts the wind can blaw " 155 

The blue-eyed Lassie ..... 156 

Wilt thou be my Dearie 7 . . . . ib. 

Lucy. — " O wat ye wha's in yon town " . . 157 

Blithe Phemie. — " Blithe, blithe and merry was she " 158 
Charming JsTannie. — " Behind yon hills where Lugar 

fiows" . . . ' . . . ib. 

Green grow the Rashes .... 159 

The Highland Lassie ..... ICO 



COJ^TEJ^TS. vii 

Page 

Snna. — ^^ Yestreen I had a pint o'' wine ^' . . 161 

The Spinning Wheel . . . . .162 

The Countnj Lassie . . • ib. 

Tarn Glen . . . . • .163 

O for Ane-and-Twenty, Tarn . . . 164 

Som ehody. — " Mij heart is sair, I dare na tell " . 165 

O whistle and Pll come to yon, my lad . . ib. 

What can a yonng lassie do wi'' an auld man 7 . . 166 

J\fy Tocher 's the Jewel . . . .167 

Tlie Mercenary Lover. — " Hey for a lass wi' a Tocher " ib. 

Mog o' the Mdl 168 

Auld Rob JMorris . . . . . ib. 

To Tibbie. — '' O Tibbie, Ihae seen the day'' . . 169 

Duncan Gray ...... 170 

The Braw Wooer . . . . • .171 

Willie's Wife. — " Sic a wife as Willie had " . . 172 

Willie brcw'd a peck o' Maiit .... 173 

Guidwife, count the Lawin .... ib. 

Honest Poverty . . . . . .174 

Contentment. — " Contented wi' little and cantie wi' 

viair" ....... 175 

Caledonia " Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign 

lands reckon" . . ... ib. 

The Battle of Sheriff-Muir . . . .176 

The Dumfries Folunteers . . . . .177 

The WhK<le 178 

John Barlevcom ...... 181 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH, 
Book IV. 

SUKOaOUS, SATIRICAL, EPIGRAMMATICAL, AND 
MISCELLANEOUS, 

T^M 0' SHATTER, 



Of Brovnyi$ and of Bogilis full is this BuJce. 

GawiiN Douolac 

When chapman billies leave ttie street. 
And droutliy neebors, neebors meet, l 

As market days are wearing late, ji 

An' folk begin to tak tlie gate; 
Whtie we set bousing at tlie nappy, 
An' getting feu and unco happy, 
We think na on the lang Scots miles, 
The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, 
That lie between ns and our liame, 
Whare sits our sulky, sullen riame, 
Gath'ring her brows like gatli'riri^f ^u ir.!. 
Nursing her wrath to keep it \va:iii. 

This truth fand honest Tarn G'Skanter, 
As he, frae Ayr, ae i.'eht did canter, 
(Auld Aijr wham ne'ei ^ town surpasses, 
FoY honest men and bonie lasses.) 
Vol. n. B 



POEMS, 



I O Tarn ! had'st thou but been sae wis*, 

i 1 As taen thy ain wife Kale's advice ! 

! I She tauld thee weel thou was a skeilum, 

j I A blethering, blusierinn, drunken blellum ; 

i 1 That frae November till October, 

i ! Ae market day thou was na sober ; 

That ilka melder, wi' the miller, 
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller ; 
That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on 
The smith and thee cat roaring fou on ; 
That at the L — d's house, ev'n rn Sunday, 
Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean tih Monday. 
She prophesy'd, that, late or soon, 
Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon 
Ot catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, 
By Mlowaifs auid haunted kirk. 

i I Ah, gentle dames ! it gars nie greet, 

I j To think how monic counsels sweet, 
; i How monie lensthen'd sage advices, 

I I The husband frac the wife despises ! 

i i But to our tale : Ae market night, 

I i Tarn had got planted unco right : 

I I Fast by an ingle, bicezing finely, 

I Wi' reaming swats, that drank di<?incly 

' And at his elbow, souter Johnny, 

! His ancient, trusty, drouther crony , 

i j Tarn lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 

! I They had been fou for weeks thegilher. 

' ! The night drave on wi' sangs and" clatter 

! j And ay the ale was growing better ; 

1 1 The landlady and Tarn grew gracious, 

j I Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: 

• I The souier tauld his q-ueerest stories ; 

; j The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: 

i I The storm without might rair and rustTe, 

I Tarn did na mind the storm a wliisllc. 



Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
j E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy; 

I As bees flee hanie wi' lades o' treasure, 

The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure ; 
Kings may be blest, but Tarn was glorious, 
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious. 

But plcafures are liko poppies spread, 
You seize the iiowe'- iis liluom is sJit-d ; 
Or, like tlie snow .alls in ihe river, 
A inomeiit wliite— tSu-n melts for ever ; 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH 

Or like the borealis race, 

That flit ere you can point their place ; 

Or like the rainbow's lovely form 

Evanishing amid the storm. — 

Nae man can tether lime or tide ; 

The hour approaclies Tarn maun ride ; 

That liour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, 

That dreary hour he mounts his beast in ; 

And sic a night he taks the road in, 

As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 

The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last ; 
The rattling show'rs rose on the blast ; 
The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd; 
Loud, deep, and lang, the thimder bellow'd : 
That night, a child migln understand, 
The Deil had business on his hand. 

Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, 
A better never lifted leg, 
Tarn skelpit on thro' dub and mire, 
Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; 
Whyles holding fast his guid blue bonnet ; 
Whylcs crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet : 
Whyles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, 
Lest bogles catch him unawares ; 
Kirk-Jilloway was drawing nigh, 
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. 

By this time he was cross the ford, 
Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd : 
And past the birks and meikle stane, 
Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck bane ; 
An thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn ; 
And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel. — 
Before him Doon pours all its floods, 
The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; 
The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; 
Near and more near the thunders roll ; 
When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, 
Kirk-Jllloway seem'd in a bleeze : 
Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; 
And loud resounded mirth and dancing. 

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! 
What dangers thou canst make us scorn • 
Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil ; 
Wi' usquobae, we'll face the devil ' 



POEMS, 

The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle^ 
Fair play, lie car'd na Deils a boddle. 
But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd. 
Till, by the heel and hand admonish' d, 
She ventur'd forward on the light; 
And vow I Tarn saw an unco sight ! 
Warlocks and witches in a dance ; 
Nae cotillion brent new frae France, 
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, 
Put life and mettle in their heels. 
A winnock-bunker in the east, 
There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, 
To gie them music was his charge: 
He screw'd the pipes, and gart them skirJ 
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. 
Coffins stood round like open presses. 
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses! 
And by some devilish cantrip slight, 
Each in its cauld hand held a light, 
By which, heroic Tarn was able 
To note upon the haly table, 
A murderer's banes in gibbet aims; 
Twa span lang, wee, unchristen'd bairnsj 
A thief, new cutted frae a rape, 
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted ; 
Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted; 
A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
A knife, a father's throat had mangled^ 
Whom his ain son o' life bereft. 
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; 
Three lawyers' tongues turn d inside ouJ, 
Wi' lies seam'd like a beggar's c!out; 
\nd priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck, 
Lay, stinking, vile, in every neuk. 
Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', 
Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. 

As Tammie glow'rd, amaz'd, and curious, 
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : 
The piper loud and louder blew; 
The dancers quick and quicker flew ; 
They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekh, 
Till ilka carlin swat and reekit. 
And coost her duddies to the wark, 
And linket at it in her sark ! 

Now Towj, O Tarn ! had they been quears 
A' plump and strapping ir ♦heir teeiis ; 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. |3 

Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, 
Iveeii snaw-white seventeen hunder linen ! 
These breeks o' mine, my only pair, 
That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, 
I wad liae gi'en them affmy hiirdies, 
For ae blink o' the bonie bardies ! 

But withered beldams, auld and droll, 
Eigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, 
Lowping an' flinging on a crummock, 
I wonder didna turn thy stomach. 

But Tarn kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie. 
There was ae winsome wench and walle, 
(Tiiat night enlisted in the core 
Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore ! 
For monie a beast to dead she shot, 
And perish'd monie a bonie boat, 
And shook baitJi meikle corn and bear, 
And kept the country-side in fear,) 
Iler'cuity-sark o' Paisley ham, 
That wliile a lassie she h:jd worn 
In longitude tho' sorely scanty, 
It was lier best, and she was vanntie. — 
Ah ! little kenn'd tliy reverend grannie, 
That sark she coft for her wee JVunnie, 
\Vi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches) 
Wad ever grac'd a dance o' witciies ! 

But here my muse her wing maun cow'r; 
Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; 
To sing how J^Tanvic lap and Hang, 
(A souple jad she was and Strang) 
And how Tavi stood, like ane bewitch'd, 
And thought his very een einich'd ; 
Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain, 
An«l liotch'd, and blew wi' might and main , 
Till first ae caper, syne anither, 
Tarn tint his reai=on a' theciiher, 
And roars out, " Weel rioiTe, Cutty-sark !' 
And in an instant a' was dark : 
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, 
When out the hellish legion sallied. 



As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, ' 

When plundering herds assail tlieir byke; , { 

As open | assie's mortal foes, 1 1 

When, pop ! she starts before their nose ; i ! 

A« eager runs the market-crowd, ; j 

When, " Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; i 



i !4 POEMS, 

I ! Po .Maff^te ran?, the witclips follow, 

j Wi' luoiiie a;i emiitch skieech and hollow. 

j ! Ah, Tarn ! ah, Tarn ! ihou'll s,'et l)iy fairia ! 

i I ^ In hcil iliey'll loast thee like a lierriiil 

i In vain tiiy Kate awaits thy coniiii ! 

I ! Kate scon will he n woefu' woman ! 

! I Now, do thy speetiy utmost. Mrir^ 

1 1 And win the key-stane* oi'liie hrig ; 

[ j There at tiiein ihnu tiiy tail may toss, 

': j A runMin!» stream they dare na cross. 

! ] Hut ere the key-stane she coiiid make, 

: i The fient a tail slie had to shake J 

I ! For Maimie, far helore llic rest, 

1 1 Hard upon nohle J\la<s<rip prest, 

! \ And flew at Tarn wi' fiiiions (ittle; 

! i But little wist she Mniriric's mettle— 

I Ae sjirinj; hr()u>:ht airiHT master hale, 

j But left beliind her ain liray 'ail : 

i The carlin clan'.'h; lierhy '.>ie rump, 

i And left poor Jlagg-ie scarce a stuinp; 

I Now, wha this ta'.e o' truth shah reap, 

I Ilk man and motI,(?r's son, take lieed : 

i I Whene'er to dr'.nk yon are iiiciin'd, 

li Or cntty-sarks mn in yonr niiiid, 

i ■ Think, ye rriay Iniy the j<vys o'er dear, 

i i Reaiember Tarn O'Uhanter's marc. 

t \ 

I j fThe followhigpoem will, by many readers, he well enmigli 

■ I Diiiierstood ; but for the sake of those who are n!iar<ji:aint»,i'' 

|i ■ iviih the manners and tradiiions nf the country win-re th*; 

I i scene is cast, notes are aildi'd, to tiive some account of ih3 

]' principal charms and spelts of that niL'ht, so bi^ with pra 

j i phecy to the peasantry in the west of Scotland. 'I'he passiokj 

I ; af pryiiif; into futurity makes a striking part of ihe tnmorv 

j i of human nature in its rude state, in aM a^t-s and iiaunng , 

j ' and it may be some enteriairnnent to a philosophic luiiid, it' 

I i any such should honour the author vith a pi-rusal, to .see the 

I ' remains of it aniong the more uneidigliiened in our own.] 

i ' * ft is a XDcll known fact, that witches^ or any ml spirits, 
kane no power to j'ull'iw a poor wight any farther tkan iKe 

\\ middle of tkmext running stream, ft may be prapfT Uke- 

: ' wise to inni'iori tu llu benighted traveller, that ichen ke falls 

j ; \ji W'tk hof^les, whatever danger may be tn his going for ward, 

\ lAfi'^ is much more hazard in turning back. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 



HALLOWEEN.* 



Yes I' let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
Tke simple pleasures of the lowly train ; 
To vie more dear, cov<rciual to viy heart, 
One native charm than all the gloss of art. 

GOLDSMIT I 



Upon that nit^ht, when fairies light, 

On Cassilis Downans\ dance, 
Or owre the lays in splendid blaze, 

On sprightly coursers prance ; 
Or for Colean the rout is laon, 

Beneath the moon's pale beams ; 
Tht-rr, up liie Cove,t to stray an' rove 

Aiuang the rocks an' streams 

To sport that night. 

II. 

Among the bonie winding banks, 

Wlicre Doon rins, witnplin, clear. 
Where HrHCc^ ance rui'd liie martial ranks. 

And shook tJie Carrick spear, 
Some m«'rry, friendly, counira folks, 

Toccther did convene, i 

To burn tiieir nits, an' pou their stocks. 

An' haud tlieir Halloween i 

Fu' biytlie that night. 

III. 
The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, 

Mair braw than when they're fine; 
Their faces biythe, fu' sweetly kythe, 

Ilearts leal, an' warm, an' kin' : I 

• Is Ikought to be a night when -witches, devils, and other \ 

mischief making beings', are all abroad on their baneful \ 

midnight tTrnnds; particularly those aerial prople,the fairies, 1 

are taid on that night to hold a grand annliicrsary. I 

t Certarn Utile, romantic, rocky, green /lillj, in the neigh' \ 

hourhood of the ancient seat of the earls of Cussiits. 

\ A noted cavern near C»lean-house, called the Cove of 
CoUan; trhirJi, as well as Cassilis Downans, is famed in 
country ttory for being a favourite haunt of fairies. 

^ Tlie famous family of that name, the ancestors of Ro i 

tert, the great deliverer of his country, were earls of Cmrriek 



POEMS, 



1 

!■ 

I The lads sac trig, wi' wooer-babs, 

i I \Veel knotted on thoir garlcn, 

[ i Some unco blaie, and some wi' gabs, 

Gar lasses' lisarts gang startin 

Whyles fasi that night 
IV. 
Then first and foremost, lliro' the kail, 

Their stocks* maun a' be sought ance; 
They stcek their een, an' graip an' wale, 

For muckle anes an' straaalit anes. 
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift. 

An' wander'd thro' tiie bow- kail, 
An' pow't, for want o' belter shift, 
A ruiit was like a sow-tail, 

Sae bow' I that night. 
V. 
Then, straugh, or crooked, yird or nane, 

They roar an' cry a' tlirou'ther; 
The vera wee things, todlin, rin 

Wi' stocks ont-owre their shouther ; 
An' gif the custock's sweet or sour, 

Wi' joctelegs they taste ihem ; 
Syne coziely, aboon the door, 
Wi' cannie care, they've plac'd them 
i ! To lie that niglit. 

li VI. 

I! 



The lasses staw frae 'mang them a' 
To pou Iheh stalks o' corn;t 

* The first ceremony of Halloween., is, pulling each a stock, 

vr ■plant of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes 

shut, and pnll the first they meet with- Its being big or little, 

straight or crooked, is prophetic ef the size and shape of the 

grand object of all their spells — the husband or w^fe. If any 

yird, or earth, stick to the root, that is toucher, or fortune; 

\ and the taste of the custock, that is, the heart of the stem, is 

i indicative of the natural temper and iisposition. Lastly, the 

1 stems, or to give them their ordinary appellation, the runts, 

i are placed somewhere abr'^e the hand of the door : and the 

\ Christian names of *''^ people whom chance brings into the 

I house, are, accruing to the priority of placing the runta, the 

{ nawe-y i.. t/ue.ttion. 

i t They goto the ham-yard, and pull each, at three several 

! times, a stalk of oafs. If the third stalk wants the tap pickle, 

i that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the part f in qutttun 

I Kill come to the marriage-bed any thing but a maid. 



1\ 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 17 

But Rah Blips out, an' jinks about, 

Behint the muckle thorn ; 
He grippct Nolly hairt an' fast, 

Loud skirl'il a' the lasses; 
But her tap-pickle niaist was lost, 

When kimlin in the fause-house* 
VVi' him tliat night. 

VII. 
The auM gu id wife's wrel hoordet nits\ 

Are round an' round divided, i I 

An' nionie lads' an' lasses' fates, ; ! 

Are there that nighl decided: I 

Some kindle, coutliie, side by side, } 

An' burn tliegilher trimly ; | 

Some start awa wi* saucy pride, i 

And jump oul-owrr' the cliimlie 

Fu' high that night. ! 

VIII. I 

Jean slips In twa wi' tentie e'e ; \ 

VV'ha 'twaa she wadna tell ; \ 

But this is Jock, and this is me, j 

She says in to he»6el : 
He bicez'd owre h«r, an' she owre him, 

As they wad never mair part ! 
Til! luir: he starti d up the lum, 

An' Jean had e'en a sair heat t 

To see't thai i Jght 

IX. 
Toor Willie, wi' his how-kail-runt^ 

Was brunt wi' pritnsie Mall e ; 
An' Mallie, naf doubt, took th<j drunt. 

To be conipar'd to Willie ; 
Mall's nit lap ».ut wi' pridefu' fling. 

An' her aiu fit it brunt it; 

* JVlien the corn is in a doubtful state, hy being too green 
or irct, the atack-buildcr, by means of old timber, 4"c., makes 
a Inrtrc a-partment in his stack, with an opening in the side 
irhich i< fdrest exposed to the wind; this he calls a fause- 
hn-;-.". 

•f Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the 
lad and bus to each particular nut, as they lay them in the 
fv, and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start 
from beside one another, the course and issue of the ccurtshif 
will br. 



19 POEMS, 

While Willie !ap, and swoor by Jing, 
'Twas just the wtiv he T.'aiued 
To be tliat night 

■I ^• 

i I NelHiad the fatise-hoii?e in her mln*, 

j ; Sh(.' pits hersel an' Rob in ; 

i f II ifjviiiif bleeze tliw sweetly join, 

j Till white in ase "they're sohbiu: 

! IS'ell's heart was daiicin at the view, 

i She whisper'd Rob to leiik for't : 

1 Rob, stowiins, prie'd her bniue mou, 

j Fu' cozie in the neuk for't, 

i Unseen that night. 

j XL 

I Dut Merran sat behint tlieir backs, 

[ Her thoiijrhts on Andrew Bell ; 

; Siie lea'es them casliin at their cracks, 

j And Slips out by liorsel : 

I Slie ihro' the yard the nearest take, 

j An' to the kiln she <roes then, 

; All' darkliiis grapit for the banks, 

i And in the blue-due* throws then, 

j lliglit fcar'l that night. 

j XH. 

j An' ay she win't, an' ay slie swat, 

I I wal she made nae jankin ; 

I Til something hnld willim the pat, 

1 Guid L — d, but slie was qiirikin ! 

I But whether 'twas the Deil hinisel, 

i Or whether 'twas a bauk-on', 

j Or whether it was Andrew Bell, 

I She did rja wait on talkin 

i To spier that night. 

i Wee Jenny to her grannie aays, 

j " Will ye go vvi' me, graunic 1 



* Wkocver would, with srtccess, try this syell, must strict' 
Iff observe these directions : Steal out, all aiotie, to tJie Win, 
and larUiiiff, throw into the pot a due of Hue yam; wina 
it in a new clue off the old one; and towards the latter end, 
somethinrr trtll hold the thread; demand, Wha haud^1 i. e. 
Who holds ? j9n ansicer will be returned from the kilnpotf 
ly navting the christian and surname of your future epouee^ 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 19 {! 

I'll iit the apple* at the glass, I 1 

I gat fiae uncle Johnnie :" | j 

She fuff't her pipe wi' sick a lunt, j • 

In wralh she was sae vap'rin, ! 

She iioiic't na, an aizle brnnt ' i 
Her bravv new worset apron 

Out thro' that night. 

XIV. 
' ye little ekelpie liminor's face ! 

Hew daur you try sic Ffjortin, 
As seek the foul thief onie place, 

For him to tpae your fortune 1 
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight ! 

Great cause ye have to fear it ; 
For monie a ane has gotten a fright, 

An' lived an' died deleeret 

On sic a night 

XV. 

" Ae hairst afore the Sherra-moor, 

I mind't as weei'a yestreen, 
I was a gylpey thtn, I'm sure 

I wai) nae past fyfteen ; 
The sinuner had bten cauld an' wal, 

An' slulfwas unc o green ; 
An' ay a rantin kirn we gat, 

An' jusc on Halloween 

ll fell that night. 

XVI. 
♦• Our stibblerig was L'ab M'Graem, 

A clever, sturdy fallow ; 
lie's sin' gat Eppie Sim wi' wean, 

That liv'd in Achmacalla: 
lie gat kemp-seed,^ I niLid it weel, 

* Take a candle, and go alotie to a looking-glass; eat an \ \ 

tipple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb I i 

your hoar all the time; the face of your conjugal companion \ \ 

to be, will be seen in the glass as if peeping over your thoul- I ! 
der. 

t Steal out, unpereeived, and sure a handful of hemp-teed; ] 

harrototng it with any thing you can conveniently draw after 1 1 

you. Repeat now and then, " Hemp-seed, I saw thee, hemp j j 

seed, I saw thee; and him {or her) that is to be my true love, I j 
tome after me andpou tkee.^' Lock over your left shoulder, 
and you will see the appearance of the person invoked, in 

tk« attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions say -Comt i 



; I SO POEMS, 

j All' he made unco liglito't; 

! I But monie a day was fnj himsel. 

He was sae sairly frightoi 

Tliai vera night." 

xvir. 

TJiPn up gat fetchin Jamie Fleck, 

Am' ]»' swoor by liis conscience, 
That lie could saw hcmp-sced a peck, 

For it was a' but nonsense : 
TJic auld guidniau rauiiln down the peck, 

An' out a Jiandfii' gied liini ; 
Syjie bad linn slif) frae 'iiiaiig the folk, 

Some time when na aiie sec'd liim, 
An' try'i liiat night. 

XVIII. 

He marches thro' amang the stacks, 

Tiio' he was something snirtin ; 
Tiie ff7-aip he for a harrow taks, 

A a' hauiis at his curpin : 
An' ev'ry now an' then, he says, 

" riemp-seed, 1 saw thee, 
An' her that is to be my lass. 

Come after me, and draw thee 

As fast this night." 

XIX. 
II". whistl'd up Lord Lennox's march. 

To keep Iiis courage cheery ; 
Altliotigli liis liair beuau to arch, 

He was sae fley'd an' eerie ; 
Tiil presently he hears a squeak. 

An' then a grane an' prurule : 
He by his shoiulier gaea keek. 

An' tumhl'd wi' a winilc 

Oui-owre that nlgbt. 

XX. 

He roar'd a horrid miirder-sliout, 
In dreadfu' (lns|ipratinii ! 

An' young and anid ranie rinnin out, 
An hear the sad narraiion : 

He swoor 'twas Julcliin Jean M'Craw, 



after me, and show Uiee,'" that is, show thyself: iniehitk e*t§ 
it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and »»jf^ 
*'' Come after me, and harrow thee.'^ 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. n 

Or crouchie Merran Humph ie, 

'Till stop! she trotted thro' them a' 

An' wha was it but grumphie 

Asteer that night ! 

XXI. 
Meg fain wad to the barn hae gaen 

To wmn three wcchts o' naelhing;* 
Bui for to meet the Deil her lane, 

She pat but Utile faith in : 
She gies the herd a pickle nits, 

An' Iwa red cheekil apples, 
To watch, while for the bam she sets, 

In hopes to see Tam Kippies 
That vera night 
XXII. 
She turns the key wi' ccnnie thraw. 

And owre the threshold ventures ; 
But first on Sawnie gies a ca', 

Syne bauldly in she enters ; 
A ration ratil'd up the wa'. 

An' she cry'd, L— d, preserve her! 
An' rail thro' niidden-hole an' a', 
An' pray'd wi' zoal an' fervor, 

Fu' fast that night 
XXIII. 
They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice : 

They lieclit him some fine braw ane ; 
It chanc'd the stack he faddorn' d tkricc,f 

Was timber-propt for thrawin : 

* This charm must likewise be performed, unperceived, 
and alone. You go to the barn, ajid open both doors, taking 
them off the hinges, if possible; for there is danger that the 
being, about to appear, may shut the doors, and do you some 
mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the 
corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht ; 071^ go 
through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the 
wind. Repeat it three times; and the third time an appari- 
tion will pass through the bam, in at the windy door, and out 
at the other, having both the figure in question, and the ap- 
pearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in 
life. 

t Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a bear- 
stack, and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of 
the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance oj 
pour future cenjugal yoke-fellow. 



i 

1 22 POEMS, 

I • He laics a swirlie, auld moss oak, 

I '■ For some black, giousome carlin ; 

j '■ AiV loot a winze, an' drew a strofce, 

I , Till skairi in blyjx's came liaurlin 

j ; Alf's nieves liiai night 

I : XXIV. 

j . A wanton widow Lee/.ie was, 

As canty as a kiltlen ; 

I Bui Ocli ! ihat ni^lit, aniang the shaws, 

i i Slie got a fearfu' seltlin ! 

j ': She tliio' ilie wiiitis, an' by tlie cirn, 

I ' An' owre the hill gaed scrioviii, 

! Whare three lairds' hnids met at a ftitrn,* 

', To dip her left sat k sleeve in, 

Was bent lliat night. 

i XXV. 

VVhyles owre a linn tht; burnie plays, 

I As thro' the glen it winipl't; 

j ; Whvles round a rocky scar it strays, 

' Whyles in a wici il dinipPt ; 

J Whylt^s fflilter'd to the niglitly rayg, 

\Vi' bickering, dancing dazzle; 

i Whyles cookit nnderne.ilh the braes, 

j Below the spreading hazel, 

j Unseen thai night. 

I! 

! i XXVI. 

i i Amang the brachens, on the brae, 

j ! Between her ati' the iiiooti, 

1 Tlio Deil, or else an outler quey, 

I Gat up an* gae a croon : 

I I Poor Leezie's heart tnaist lap the hool; 
j I Near lav'n^ck-heighi she juinpit, 

1 1 Bitt mist a fit, ati' in tlie pool 

1 Out owre the lugs she plntnpil, 

': Wi' a plunge thai night. 



* You go out, one or more, for this is a social »p<tt, t» a 
gouth-runninrr spring or rivulet, wftere " three lairds lands 
iiifet," and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sn'ht of 
afire, and hamr ijour ioel sleeve before il to dry. I.ie aicike : 
and sometime near viidni<rfu an apparition, having the ex^et 
figure of the grand object in qu rstion, will come and turn UU 
ileeve, as if to dry the other aide of it. 






CHIEFL YSCO TTISH. 23 

xxvir. 

In order, on the clean heartli-stane, 

Tlie luggies three* are ranged, 
And every time fjreat cart is taen, 

To see them duly ciiaiiged : 
Auld uncle John, wlia wedlock's joys 

Sin Mar's year did desire. 
Because he gat the loom dish thrice, 

lie liuav'd them on the lire 

Li w rath that night 

XXVUI. 
Wi' merry sang?, an' friendly cracks 

I wai liiey did na wtary ; 
An' unco tales, an' funnie jokes, 

Tlieir sports were cheap an' cheery. 
Till butter'd so'vs,\ wi' flagrant lunt, 

Set a' their gabs a-sieerin , 
Syne wi' a social gla?s o' strunt, 

Tliey parted alfcareerin 

Fu' blyihe that night. 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS. 

A CANTATA. 

RECITATIVO. 

When lyart leaves hcstrow the 3'ird, 
Or wavering like the Banckie-biid,t 

liedim canid IJoiir.s' blast; 
When liail sianes drive wi' bitter skyte, 

♦ 7^akc three dishes : put clean wafer in one, foul wain 
in another, leave the third empty : blivdffld a person^ axi 
lead him to the h rarlh where the dishrs are ravjrcd; he (m 
she) dips the left hand: if by chavce in the clean tcater, th- 
future husband 1 r wife will come to the bar of viutrimovy 1 
maid : if in thejovl, a widow : if in the empty di>h, if. fore 
tells, with cijiial :ertaiiity, vn vuirriaire at all. It is rcpeatet 
three Inties, and every time the arranrrimcnt of the dishes ii 
alter id. 

t Sowcns, wiil butter instead of milk to them, is altcayt 
the Halloween supper. 

t 7'Ae old Sco '.ch name for the Bat 



1 



jl 



B4 POEM'S, 



i j And Infaat frosts bccin to bile. 

( i In hoary craiireuch drost ; 

j I Ae night nt e'en a merry core 

! I O' randie, gangrel bodies, 

i I In Poopje-Nansie's held the splore, 

i I To drink their orra duddios : 

1 1 Wi' quaffing and laughing, 

I They ranted and thi'y sang ; 

i j Wi' jurn[)itig and thumping, 

! j The vera girdle rang. 

I i First nie&t the fire in anid red rags, 

I I Ane sat, vveel l)rac'd wi' mealy bags, 
I i And knapsack a' in order; 

j I His doxy lay within liis arm, 

j i Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm — 

I i She blinket on her sodger : 

i I An' ay he gives the tozle drab 

! j The tither skelpin kiss, 

) I • While she held up her greedy gab 

i; Just like an aurnos dish. 

i i Ilk smack still did crack stilS, 

I i Just like a cadger's whip, 

I I Then staggering atid swaggering 
i : He roar'd tliis ditty up — 

1 1 AIR. 

1 1 TwTifi— " Soldier's Joy." 

ij I. 

i ! 1 AM a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, 

: I And show my cuts and scars wherever I come : 

! I This here was for a wench, and that otlier in a trench, 

! ; When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. 

I i Lai de d:iudle, Ata 

ii '- 

j I My prenticesln'p I past whero my leader breath'd his last, 

i ' When the bloody die was cast on the lieiahts of Abram ; 

j , I served out my trade when llio gallant came was play'd, 

! And theMoro low was laid at the sound of the drum. 

I ^ Lai de daudle, tc 

I i I"- 

I I r lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'rles, 
j j And there I left for witness an arm and a limb; 

'■ i Yet let my country need me, with EMioi to head me, 

I i I'd clatter on my stumps at the SQund of a drum. 

; ! Lai de daudle, &.e 



i! 

CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 25 ji 

IV. 
And now, tho' I must beg with a wooden arm and leg, 
Aiul many a latter'd rag hanging over my bum, 
I'm BH hajiiiy with my wallet, my bottle and my callet, 
Aa wht-n I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum. 

Lai de dandle, Sec. 

V. 

What the' with hoary locks, I must stand the winter shocks, 
Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home, 
■When the i'oth"r bag 1 sell, and the t'otlx r bottle tell, 
I could meet a iroop of hell at the sound of the drum. 

Jjal de daudle, &c, 

nECITATIVO. 

lie ended ; and tlie kebars sheuk 

Aboon tlif! chorus roar ; 
Wliile frighted rattons backward leuk, 

And seek tlie benmost bore ; 
A fairy fuldier frae tlie neuk, 

lie skir'd out encore ! 
But up aro^e the martial cluick, 

And laid the loiid uproar. l 

I 
AIR. ! 

TifTic— "Soldier Laddie." } 

I. I 

I once was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when, I 
And still my deliglu is in proper young men : 

Some one of a irocp of dragoons was my daddie, i 

No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie. i 

Sing, Lai de lai, &c. j 

II. ! 

The first of my loves was a swacgering blade, ! 

To rattle the thundering drum was his trade: ! 

His leg was so tight, and his ch^eek was so ruddy, j 

Transjiorted I was with my sodger laddie, j 

Sing, Lai de lal, &c \ 

in. I 

But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch, ! 

The sword I forsook for the sake of the church ; I 

IJe ventured the soul, nnd I risked the btxhj, i 

TwJis then I i)rov"d false lo my sodger laddie. ! 

Sing, Lal de lai, &.C | 

Vou II. C ! 



M M POEMS, 

\'i IV. 

1 1 Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified wt, 

j ; The reiiiineni at large for a litisband I got ; 

1 j From the gililed spoiitoon lo the fife I wu re&df, 

I i I asKea no more out a souger touuie. 

; I Sing, Lai de lal, fce. 

I ■■ 

II V. 

1 1 Bui the peace it rediic'd me to beg in despair, 

• i Till I met my auld boy at Cunningham '"air ; 

i j His rarrs regimental they fluiter'd so gaudy, 

I j My heart it rejoiced at my sodger laddie. 

I I Sing, Lal de lal, &c 

i| VL 

i ! And now I have liv'd— I know not how long, 

; I And still I can join in a cup or a sonij ; 

; : But whilst with both hands I can ho'.tl the glass steady, 

I Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. 

' i Sing, Lal de lal &.t. 



RECITATIVO. 



j Then niest outspak a raucle carlin, 

■ Wiia kent fu' weel to cleek the sterling, 

i For monie a pursie she had hooked, 

j And had in monie a well been ducked. 

1 Her dove had been a Highland laddie, 

j But weary fa' the waefu' woody ! 

I Wi' sighs and sobs she thus began 

I To wail her braw John HighlaTidman. 

i AIR. 

i Tune—'^^ O an' ye were dead, gudenan." 

I ^' 

1 A highland lad my love was bom, 

! The Lalland laws he held in scorn; 

j But he still was faithfu' to his clan, 

; My gallant braw John Highlandinan. 



Sint^, hey my braw John Highlandmw ! 
Sing, ho my braw John Hii;hlandman ' 
There's not a lad in a' the lah" 
Was match for my John HighlmndmMn. 



ClUEFLY SCOTTISH. 27 \\ 

il. II 

Willi l)is [ihilihpp, an' tartan plaid, i ! 

An' fjixlo <:liiyii!(iro down l)y liis side | '■. 

The l.-iilios' lic.-irts he <li(! iri pan, i i 
My gall:vi!t htaw Jolm lli^l;:ari(lman. . j \ 

Siiig, liey, tc. I : 

HI. ji 

Wo i.-inii' t\ a" fioni Twrsd !o ?ppy, < i 

An' iivM like !ot,!s aiul !r(Iu>- i;.iy ; 
For a l.allaml fate lu' I'laitf! luiii'c, 
My ga!!ai!i hiaw Ju:.n iiighlaiulinan. 

Sing, hey, &c. 

IV. 
Thpy bani'^li'd Isiin beyond the sea, 
Hut <rt; thf ('tii! \\ at. on the trf-e, 
Adowii niy tlioi-ks ilie pearls ran, 
Erab.-acaig iny John llighJuiidman. 

Ping, liey, &c. 

V. 
B"!t, oil ! tliry cntch'd l.iin ot the last, 
And t'Oiind liini in a diicgeon fast ; 
My cnrsc upon thofn every oJie, 
They've hang'd my braw" John Hichlandman. 
r-ing, liey, &:c. 

YI. 
And now a wi<lo\v, I nuist mncrn 
The iileasures liiat \\\\\ ne'er return; 
No coinlort hut a hearty can, 
VVhCii 1 think on Jolin llighhTndrnan. 

Sin?, Iv'.y, fcc. 

RECITATiVO. 

A piumy scraper wV Iiis fiddle, 

Wha ns'd to trysts and fairs to driddle, 

IJer slrappan liuih and jrancy middle', 

He rearh'd nae liisher. 
Had hol'd his )ieariie like a riddle, 

An' blawn't on lire. 

Wi' liandon lianncli. an' upward e'o. 
He croon'd liis uamut, one, two, three, 
Then in an Arioso key, 

Tli<! wee Apollo 
Set off -A-i' SAlr-:ritto glee 

His gigu sola 



AIR. 

rwrae— " Whistle o'er the lave o't* 
I. 

Let me ryke up to dight tJsat tear, 
An' go wi' me to be my dear, 
An' then your ev'ry care and fear 
May whistle o'er the lave o't. 



/ am a fiddler to my trade, 
And a' the tunes that e'er f played, 
The sicecte.it still to wife or maidf 
Was whistle o'er the lave o^t. 

II. 

At kirns and weddings we'se be there, 
And O : sae iricely's we will fare ; 
We'll bouse about till d^ddie Care 
Sing whistle o'er the lave o't. 
I am, Sec. 

III. 

Sac merrily the banes we'll pyke, 
An' sun oursels about the dyke, 
An' at our leisure, when we like, 
We'll wJiistle o'er the lave o't. 
I am, &c. 

IV. 

But bless me wi' 3'our heav'n charmo, 
And while I kittle hair on thairras, 
Munffcr, cauld, an' a' sic harms, 
May whistle o'er the lave o't 
I am, &c. 

RECITATIVO, 

Her charms had struck a sturdy Caird, 

As weel as pnor gut-scraper ; 
He taks the fiddler by the beard, 
And draws a rusty rapier. 
I ! He swore by a' was swearing worth, 

1 1 To speet him like a pliver, 

I LTnless he would, from that time forth, 

- Relinquish her for ever. 



en IKFLY SCOTTISH 2 

Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dce 

Upon his hunkers bended. 
And pray'd fur trace, wi' ruefu' face, 

And so the quarrel eiich'd. 
But ..;,.. iiui HIS nine nrari did jrrieve, 

When round the tinker press'd her 
lie (V'ignM to snirtle in his sleeve, 

When thus the Caiid aduress'd her. 

AIR. 
7>/nc— " Clout the Caudron." 
I. 
My bonie lass, I work in brass, 

A tinker is my station ; 
I've travelled round ail Christian ground 

In this my occujiaiion. 
I've iji'en tJie pold. I've been enroll'd 

In many a noble squadron ; 
But Vrtin they search'd, when afTI marcli'd 
To go and clout the raudron. 

I've ta'en the gold, &.c. 
II. 
Dpspise that shrimp, that withei'd imp, 

Wi' a' his noise and cap'rin, 
And tak a share wi' those that bear 

The budi^ct and the apnm. 
And by that stowp ! niy faith and houp, 

And by that dear Kilbaiiiie,* 

If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, 

May 1 ne'er weet my craigie. 

And by that stowp, &.C. 

RECITATIVO. 

The Caird prevail'd— th' unblushing fair 

In his embraces sunk, 
Partly wi' love o'erconte sae sair, 

An' partly she was drunic 
Sir Violina wi' an air 

That show'd a man of spunk, 
WisJi'd unison between the pair, 

An' made tJie bottle clunk 

To their Jiealth that nighi. 

^peculiar sort ofichiskcv, no calhd, a grrat fnvouriu 
viith Poosie.S'ans-ii' s clubs. 



to FOE.MS, 

But liurchin Cui'iil sliot a shaft 

That play'd a dame a shavie, 
The fiddipriak'd her fore and aft 

Behhit tho chi'.kt!ii oavia. 
Her lord, a wif^lilo' Holder's* craft, 

'I'ho' linipiii \vi' llie spavie, 
He hirpl'd up, and lap like daft, 

And shor'd Ihcni dainty Davia 
C boot that night 

j He was a care-defying blade 

i I As ever Bacchus listed ; 

i Tiio' Fortune sair upon him laid, 

His heart she ever niii^s'd it. 
He had nae wi*h, but— to be ^-^lad, 

I Nor want, but — when he thirsted J 

I He haled nought but— to be sad, 

: I And thus the Muse snsgested 

! His sang that night. 

■j 

i AIR. 

i Tji?fe— " For a' that, and a' that." 

p 

I am a Bard of no regard 
! Wi' gentle folks, an' a' that ; 

] But Honier-like, the glovvran byke, 

i Frae town to town 1 draw that. 

i I CItORUS. 

! I 

I ! For a' that, and a' that, 

I ! Jlnd twice as muckle's o' that; 

! rve lost but ane, I've twa ieAtn', 

j Fve wife cneughfor a' that. 

II. 
I never drank the Muses' stank, 
Castalia's burn, and a' that ; 
But tliere it streams, and richly reams, 
My Helicon I ca' that. 

For a' that, &c. 
HI. 
Great love I bear to a' the fair, 
i Their humble slave, and a* that; 

■ • H-imer is allowed to be the oldctt ballad einger on r» 

ror;l. 



CHiEFLY SCOTTISH. 31 

But lordly will I bold it still 
A mortal ein to tliraw iliat. 
For a' that, &c. 

rv. 

In raptures sweet, this lioiir we meet, 

Wi' mutual love, and a' that; 
But for how lang the file may stang, 

Let inclination law that. 

For a' that, &c. 

V. 
Their tricks and craft have put me daft, 

They've ta'en me in, and a' that ; 
But clear your decks, and here's the sex ! 

I like the jads for a' that. 

For a" that, and a' that, 

Jind twice as muckle's a' that; 
My dearest bluid, to do them guid, 

They're icclcomc till' I for a' that. 

RECITATIVO. 

So sung the bard— and Nansie's wa*s 
Shook wi' a thunder of applause, 

Re-echo'd from each mouth : 
They towm'd their pocks, an' nawn'd their duds, 
They scarcely left to co'er iheir fuds 

To quench liieir lowan diouth. | 

Then owre agnin, the jovial thrang j I 

The poet did rt'tjuost, 
To low'se his pack, an wale a sang, 
A ballad o' the best : 
lie, rising, rejoicing. 

Between his tvva Deborahs, 
Looks round him, an' found them 
Impatient for tiie chorus. 



AIR 
Tune — " Jolly mortals, fill your glasses." 

See the smoking bowl before us! 

Mark our jovial, ragged ring ! 
Hound and round take up the cborus, 

And in raptures let us sing. 



POEMS, 



■Afi^for those by law protected f 
Lilierty's a glorious fcasti 

C'ourts for cowards were erected^ 
Churches built to please the priest 

11. 

What is title? what is treasure? 

Wlial is reputation's care ? 
If we lead a life of pleasure, 

'Tis no matter hoio or where. 
A fig, &c. 

III. 
With the ready trick and fable, 

Round we wander all the day; 
And ai nijrht, in barn or stable, 
Hug our doxies on the liay. 
A fig, &c. 

IV. 

Docs the train attended carriage 
Tliro' the country lighter rove? 

Does liie sober bed of marriage 
Witness brighter scenes of love 1 
A fig, &c. 

V. 

Life is all a variorum^ 
We regard not how it goes ; 

Let l^en^ cant about decorum, 
Who Iiave characters to lose. 
A fig, &c, 

VI 

Here's to budgets, burs, and walleti! j 
Here's to all the wandering train ; 

Here's our ragged brats isntl collets f 
One and all' cry out, Aintn I 

-^fig fof those by law protected! 

Liberty's a glorious feast I 
Courts for cowards were erected. 

Churches built to please tkepriesi. 



11 

CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 33 i 

DEATH AND DR. HORNBOOK, j | 

A TRUE STORy. I j 

Some books are lies fiae end to end, i 

And some great lies were never penn'd • 
Ev'n miiiieiers, tJiey liae been kenn'd, 

In holj' rapture, 
A rousing whid, at times to vend. 

And nail't \vi' Scripture. 
But this that I am gaun to tell, 
Which lately on a nif;hi befell, 
Is just as Irue's the Deil's in h-11 

Or Dublin city; 
That e'er he nearer comes oursel 

's a niuckle pity. 
The Clachan yi!I had made me canty, 
I was nae fou, but just had plenty ; 
I siacher'd vvhyles, but yet took tent ay 

To free the ditches; 
An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, kenn'd ay 

Frae ghaists an' witches. 
The rising Moon began to glow'r 
The distant Cumnock hills out-owre ; 
To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r, 

I set mysel ; 
But whether she had three or four, 

I cou'd na tell. 
I was come round about the hill. 
And todlin down on JVillie's mill. 
Setting my staff wi' a' my skill, 

To keep me sicker ; ,' 

Tho' leeward wliyles a^'ainst my will, I 

I took a bicker. j 

I there wi' somelhiuff did forgatlier, 1 \ 

That put me in an eerie swither ; 
An awfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouther. 

Clear dangling hang ; 
A Ihree-tae'd leister on the ithef 

Lay, large an' lang. 

Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells iwa, 
The queerest shape that e'er I saw, 
For Cent a wame it had ava ! 

And then, its shfinks. 
They were as thin, as sharp, an' sma' 

As cheeks o' brankfl ! 



34 POEMS, 

" Guld-e'en," quo' I ; " Frioiid ! Iiae ye been ma-Jfte 
When ither folk are busy sawin?"' 
it seem'd to mak a kind o' stan', 

But naetliiiiji spak; 
At length, says I, " Friend, whare ye gaun t 

Will ye go back ?" 

It spak riaht howe — " My name is Deaths 
But be na ffey'd."-Quo' I, " Guid faith! 
Ye're may be come to slap niy breath; 

But tent me, billie ; 
J red ye wccl, tak care o' skaiih, 

See, there's a gully!" 

"Gudeman," quo' he, " put up your whittle, 
I'm no dcsign'd to try its metllf ; 
Butif Idid, Iwad be kittle 

To be mislear'd, 
I wad na mind it. no tiiat s[iitt'e 

Out-ovvie my beard."' 

" Weel, weel !" says I, " a bargain bc't; 
Come, gie'9 your hand, an' sac we're gree't; 
We'll ease our shanks, an' tak a seat, 

Conn;, i|ie's your nt-ws; 
This whylet ye hae bi:en inonie a gate, 

At in(Hiie a house." 

" Ay, ay !" quo' he, an' shook his Jiead, 
" It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed 
Sin' I began to nick the tread, 
[ An' choke the breath : 

1 Folk maun do something for their brr ad, 

; An' sae tnaun Death. 

\\ 

" Sax thousand years are near hand fled 
Sin' I was to the hutching itred. 
An' monie a scheme in valu's been laid. 

To stap ort^cor mc ; 
Till ane Hornbook' sX ta'eu up >he tradt, 
An' faith, h( '11 waur me. 



* This rencontre happened in serd-time, 17ft!>. 

t ^n epidemical fever was ihmi » afftnir in that eountiy. 

i This geittleman,l)r. Jlor t/>ook, i.<, profet-tiomilly. a hro-. 
therof the sovereign order of the hernia, but, hy mtuttufn 
and inspiraiion, is at once an apoUucary, surgeon ar,d ykp- 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISR. I5 

"Ye ken Jock Hornhonk i' the C'achaa, j 

Deil niak his kiii<;'s-hood in a spleiicliaii ! ! 

lie's grown sao wcpI acquainl wi' Jiuchan* ' 

All' itlior chaps, ; 

The weans haud out their fuigeis laiighin, 

An' pouk my hips. 

" See, Tiere's a scythe, and there's a dart, I 

They hae pierc'd nioiiie a fjallaiit heart ,• : 

Bsl Doctor Ilornhnok, wi' liis art, 
And cursed skill, 
Has made them baiili do woitli a f— t, I 

D-nm'd haet tiiey'li kill ! 

" Twas but yestreen, iiae fartl.cr gaen, 

f threw a noble throw at ane ; '■ 

VVi' less I'm sure, I've innidieds slain .; I 

But deil-ma-care, \ 

Jt just play'd dirl on the bane, j 

But did nae mair. 

" Ifornbook was by, wi' ready art, I 

And had sae fortilied t/ie part, i 

Tljai wJien 1 looked to my dart, f 

It was sae blunt, !i 

Ficnt haet o'l wad liae pierc'd the hcarl i 

Of a kail-runt. 

«' I drew my scythe in sic a fury, 
I near hand cowpit wi" my hurry, 
But yet liie bauid Apothecary 

Wiilislood the shock,- 
A might as weel hae try'd a ijuarry 

O' liard wliin rock. 

♦' Ev'n them lie canna gel attended, 
Altho' their face he ne'er had kenu'd it, 
Just— In a kail-blade, and send it, 

As sonn's he sinells't, 
Balth their disease, and what will mend it, 
At once ho tells't. 

" And then a' doctor's saws and whittles 
Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, 
A' kind o' boxes, mugs, an' bottlpg. 

He's sure to hae; 
Their Latin names as ra.«i he raitiea 

As A I) C. 

* Bttchair^ Dohicsd^: McdkrJua. 



36 POEMS, 

' Calces o' fossils, eaith. and trees : 
1 rue sal-marinum o' llie seao ; 
The farina of beans and peas, 

Jle lias't in plenty; 
Aqna-fontis, what yon please, 

He can content vp 

♦' Forbye some new, uncommon weapons, 
Urinus spiritus of capons ; 
Or mite-horn shavinjjs, filings, scrapinga, 

Distill'd;;er se; 
Sal alkali o' midgc-tail-clippinfis, 

And monie n»ae." 

" Waes me for Johnny GeiVs Hole"* now," 
Q.UO' I, " if that the news be true ! 
His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew, 

Sae white and boiiie, 
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the piengh: 

They'll ruin JoJuiny t" 

1 1 The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh, 

' ! And says, " Ye need iia yoke the p!«ugh ; 

I i Kirkyaids will soon be till'd eneugh, 

I I Tak ye nae fear : 

I i They'll a' be trench'd wi' monie a shcugb, 

j i In iwa-three year. 

i ! " Whare I kiil'd ane a fair sirae death, 

j j By loss o' blood or want o' breath, 

1 j This night I'm free to tak my aiih, 

' I That Hornbook's skill 

: I Has clad a score i' their last claith, 

! I By drap an' pill. 

I " An honest VVabster to his trade, 

j Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce well bre^ 

t fiat lippence-worth lo mend her head, 

i When it was sair ; 

I The wife slade cannie to her bed, 

jj Butne'er spak mair. 

I i 

I ! "A counlra Laird had laen the batta, 

: I Or some curmurring in his guts, 

[ 1 His only son for Horvbuok sets, 

ij An' pays him well 

j j The lad, for tv\ a guid gimmer pets, 

I i Was Liiird liiniseL 



* The grave- digger 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 

" A bonle lass, ye kenn'd her name, 
Sonie ill-brewn drink iiad hov'd her wama 
She trusts hersel, to hide the shamfi, 

In Hornbooli's care ; 
Horn sent her affto her lang hame, 

To liide it there. 

" That's just a swatch ( ' Jfomhook's w»? 
Thus goes he on from daj v, day, 
Thus does he poison, kill, f n' slay, 

An's weel paid for't; 
Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, 

Wi' his d- mn'd dirt. 

» But hark ! I'll tell you of a plot, 
Tho' dinna ye be speaking o't : 
I'll nail the self-conceited sot, 

As dead's a herrin; 

Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, 

He gets his fairin !" 

But just as he began to tell. 
The auld kirk-hammcr strak the bell 
Some wee short hour ayont the twal, 

Which rais'd us baith ; 
I took the way that pleas'd niysel. 

And sae did Death. 



A DREAM. 

Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames withreasom 
But surely drean)s were ne'er indicted treason. 

[On reading, in the public papers, the LaureaCs Ode, with 
the other parade of June 4, 1786, the author was no sooner 
dropt asleep than he imagined himself transported to the 
birth-day levee ; and in his dreaming fancy made the follow- 
ing address.] 

I. 
Gpid morning to your Majesty ! 

May heav'n augment your blisses, 
On every new birth-day ye see, 

An humble poet wishes I 
My hardship here, at your levee, 

On sic a day as this is, 
Is sure an uncouth sight to see, 
Amang thae birth-day dresses 
Sae fine thb day. 



38 POEJUS, 

II. 
I soe ye're complimented thrang, 

By monie a lord and lady ; 
" God save the king !" 's a cuckoo sangi 

That's unco easy said ay ; 
The Poets, too, a venal gang, 

WV rhymes wrel-turn'd and ready. 
Wad gar ye trow ve ne'er do wrang, 
But ay uuerriig steady, 

On sic a day. 

III. 
For me ! before a monarch's face, 

Ev'n there I vvinna flatter ; 
For neither pension, post, nor place, 

Am I your humble debtor ; 
So, nae reflection on your grace, 

Your kingship to bespatter ; 
There's monie waur been o' the race, 

And aiblins ane been better. 

Than you this day. 

IV. 

'Tis very true, my sov'reign king, 

My skill may weel be doubted ; 
But facts are duels that wiima ding, 

An' downa be disputed : 
Your royal nest, beneath your wing, 

Is e'en right reft ajf clouted, 
And no\* the third part of the string, 

An' less, will gang about it 

Than did ae day. 
V. 
Far be't frae me that I aspire 

To blame your legislation. 
Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire, 

To rule this mighty nation ! 
But faith ! I muckle doubt, my Sire; 

Ye've trusted ministration 
To chaps, wha, in a barn or byre, 

Wad better fill'd their station 

Than courts yon day. 
VI. 
And now ye've gien auld Britain ])eac^ 

Her broken shins to plaster ; 
Your pair ta\;itif>n does her fleece, 

Till she hns Frnrre a f'sTt-r; 



Ilai!, Majesty most cTceilenl! 

V/hile nobles strivf; to please ye, 
WJl ye accept a compliment 

A simple Poet gi( s ye 1 
Thae bouie bairn-time, Heav'n has lent. 

Still higher may they lieeze ye 
In bliss, till fate some day is sent, 

For ever to release ye 

Frae care that day. 
X. 
For you, yoimg potentate o' W , 

1 tell your highness fairly, 
Down i)leasures stream, vvi' swelling sails, 

I'm tauld ye'i e driving rarely ; 
But 8on)e day yij may gnaw your nails, 

An' curse yo ir folly sairly, 
That e'er ye biak Diana's pales, 

Or raltl'd dice wi' Charlie, 
Py night or day. 



i! 

* I ! 

|i 

ii 

M 

CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 39 \\ 

For me, thank God, my life's a lease, \ \ 

Nae bargain wearing faster, j [ 

Or, faith ! 1 fet', that wi' tfie geese, { j 

I shortly boo I to i)asture 

(' the crat't some day. 

VII. 
I'm no mistruf'iig Willie Pitt, 

When taxes 1 e enlarges, 
(An' Wills a tiue guid fallow's get, 

A name not envy spairges,) 
That I'e inten'ls to pay your debt. 

An' lessen i' your charges ; 
But, G-d sak-; ! let nae saving-ft 

Abridge yo ir bonie barges 

An' boats this day. 

VIII. 
Adieu, my J.icge ! may freedom geek 

Beneath ymr hi-jh protection ; 
An' may ye rax coiruption's neck. 

And gie Ji<;r for dissection ! 
But sincj I'm here, f '11 no neglect, 

In loya', true affection, 
To pay your Queen, with due respect, 

My ff alty an' suLjcction, 

This great birth-day. 

IX. ! 



; 1 ts pjrj.yi, 

ij XI. 

' ! Yet aft a rng^oil cowte's been knowB 

To inak a hohle aivcr ; 
■■ So ye may doucely till a thiorit*, 

I For a' tlieir clisti-nia-claver : 

I i TIkuo liim* at J)gincoiirt vvha ghone, 

\ \ Few ^^►rr vvtae or braver ; 

Ami yet, \vi' fimiiy, quf^er Sir Jobn.t 
He was ail iiiieo shaver 

For moaie a day. 

XII. 

For you, riglil rev' rend O- 



Naiie sets the laion-slceve sweeter^ 
Ailho' a riband at your h!,<; 

Wad been a dress coni|iieter: 
As ye disown yon paughiy dog 

That bears the i<eys of Peter, 
Then, swith ! an' get a wife lo hug, 

Or, trontli ! ye'll stain the mitre 
Soin-j luckless day 

Xill. 

Yoiins, royal Tarnj Brocks., I learn, 

Yu've lately come athwart her; 
A jilorious galleij,l stem an' stern, 

Well ri^g'd for Venus' barter ; 
But first hang out, that she'll discern 

Your liymenial charactiT, 
Tiien heave ahroad your grapple air, 

An' large ujx>' her quarter, 

Come full that day. 

XIV. 

Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a', 

Ye royal lasses dainty, 
Ileav'n mak you guid as wcel's braw. 

An' gie you lads a-plenty ; 
But sneer na Britisk boys aw a', 

For kings are unco scant ay ; 
An' German gentles are but amo'. 

They're better just than want ay 
On onie day. 

* King Henry V. 

\ Sir John Falstaff. Vide Shakspeare. 
i Mluding to the newspaper account of a eerlain rcyu^' 
tailor^s amour. 



iUlEFLY SCOTTISH. 
XV 

God l>Ioss you a' I consiiler now, 

Ye'rG unco mucklc dMutet; 
But ere the course o' life be thro', 

It may be bitter sautet : 
An' J liae seen tlicir coggie fou, 

That yet hae tanow'd at it ; 
But or the day v/as done, I trow, 

The laggen they liae clautct 

Fu' clean that day. 



SCOTCH DRINK. 
Gie him strong drink until he wink, 

That's siJikirtg in despair; 
j?n' liquor guid to fire his bluid, 

That's prcst wV grief an' care; 
There let him bouse, an' deep carouse, 

Hi' b^impcrsfioicing o'er, 
Till he forgets his loves or debts, 
And minds his griefs no more. 

Solomon's Proverbs, xxxi. 8, 7 
Let other Poets raise a fracas 
'Bout vinos, an' wines, an' drunken Bacchus 
An' crabbit names an' stories wrack us, 

An grate our lug, 
I sing the juice Scots bear can niak us, 
In glass or jug. 

O tliou, n)y Jiluse I guid auld Scotch Drink, ! | 

Whether tino' vvimijliu worms thou jink, ! j 

Or, richly brown, luani o'er the brink, { 1 

In glorious faem, j | 

Inspire nie, till I lit-p and wink, | 

To sing thy name '. i 

Let husky Wlieat the liaughs adorn, | 

An' Aits set up their awnie horn, ( 

An' Peas an' IJeaiis at e'en or moni, j 

Perfume the plain, jj 

Lecze me on thee, John Barleycorn, 1 1 

Thou king o' grain ! j | 

On thee aft Scotland chows her cood, •' i 

In Bouple jicones, tlie wale o' food I • j 

Or tumblin in the boiling flood j j 

VVi' kail an' beef; i j 

But v.'hcn t iiou pours thy strong heart's blood, 1 1 

There thou shines chief 

f ot. II. D 



t: POEMS, 

Pood fills the wame, an' keeps us livliz; 
Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin, 
When heavy dragg'd wi' pine an' grievln ; 

Bat, oil'd by thee, 
The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin, 

Wi' rattlin glee. 

Thou clears the head o' doited Lear : 
Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care ; 
Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair, 

At's weary toil : 
Thou even brightens dark Despair 

Wi' gloomy smile; 

Aft, clad in massy silver weed, 
Wi' gentles thou erects thy head ; 
Yet humbly kind in time o' need. 

The poor man's wine, 
His wee drap parritch, or his bread. 

Thou kitchens fine. 

Thou art the life o' public haunts; 
But thee, what were our fairs and rants ? 
Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts. 

By thee inspir'd, 
When gaping they besiege the tents, 

Are doubly fir'd. 

That merry night we gat the com in, 
O sweetly then thou reams the horn in! 
j Or reeking on a new year morning 

In cog or bicker, 
I An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in, 

I An' gusty sucker! 

j When Vulcan gies Ills bellows breath, 

An' ploughman gather wi' their graith, 
j O rare to see thee fizz an' freath, 

r th' lugget caup! 
Then Burncwin* comes on like death 
At ev'ry chaup. 

Nae mercy, then, for aim or steel •, 
The brawr.ie, bainie, ploughman chief, 
Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel, 

The strong forehammcr. 
Till block an' stiiddie ring an' reel 

Wi' dinsome clamoui: 



BumetDin—hum-tke-windr-ihe BlacksmlUi 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISM. 43 

Wlien skirlin weanies see the light. 
Thou niaks the gossips clatter bright, 
How funiblin cuifs ilieir dearies slight ; 

Wae worth the name ; 
Nae howdle gets a social niglit, 

Or plack frae them. 

When neebors anger at a plea, 
An' just as wud as wud can be, 
How easy can tlie barley-bree 

Cement the quarrel .' 
It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee, 

To taste the barrel. 

Alake ! that e'er my Muse has reason 
To wyte lier countrymen wi' treason ! 
But monie daily weet their weason 

Wi' liquors nice, 
An' hardly, in a winter's season, 

E'er spier her price. 

Wae worth that brandy, burning trash ; 
Fell source o' monie a pain an' brash ! 
Twins monie a poor, doylt, drunken hash, 

O' half his days! 
An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash 

To her warst faes. 

Ye Scots wha wish auld Scotland well, 
Ye chief, to you my tale I tell. 
Poor j)Iackless devils like mysel ! 

It sets you ill, 
Wi' bitter, deatlifu' wines to nicll, 

Or foreign gill. 

May gravels round l:is blether wrench, 
An' gouts torment him inch by incii, 
Wha twists his gru?itle wi' a glunch 

O' sour disdain, 
Out-owre a glass o' whiskey punch 

Wi' honest men. 

O whiskey I soul ol plays an' pranks ! 
Acce[>t a Bardie's humble thanks I 
Wheji wanting thee, what tuneless crankis 

Are my poor verses I 
Thou cotnes— they rattle i' their ranks 
At illier's a — si 
Thee, Frrintosh! O sadly lost ! 
Scotland. lanuMit frae coast' to coaal! 



POEMS, 

Now colic grips, an' bailvin boast, 

Way kill us a' ; 
For loyal Forbes^ ciiartcr'd boast. 

Is tacn awa ! 
Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, 
Wha inuk the whisknj stclls the prize ! 
Haud up thy han', D(!il ! ance, twice, thrice, 

There, seize the blinkers ! 
An' bake them up in brunstane pies 

For poor d— n'd drinkere. 
Fortune! if thou'Il but gie me still 
Hale breeks, a scone, an' whiskerj gill^ 
An' rowlh o' rhyme to rave at will, 

Tak a' the rest, 
An' deal't about as tliy blind skill 

Directs thee best. 



THE AUTHOR'S E.iRXEST CRY MJ^D PRAYER* 

TO THE SCOTCH REPRKSENTATIVES IN THE HOUS« OF 

COMMONS. 

Dearest of distillation I last and best — 
— How art thou lost 1 — 

Parody on Milton. 
Ye Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squires, 
Wha represent our burgiis an' sliires, 
An' douc(!Jy manage our affairs 

In parliament, 
To you a simple Poet's prayers 
Are humbly sent 
Alas I my roupet Muse is hearse I 
Your lionours' heart wi' grief 'Iwad pierce, 
To sue h'.'r sittin on her a — e 

Low i' the dust, 
An' scriechbi out prosaic verse, 
An' like lo brust i 
Tell them wha hae the chief direction, 
Scotiaiid an' me's in great affliction. 
E'er sin' they laid that curst restriction 

On AquavitiE ; 
An' rouse tlicm up to strong conviction, 
An' move their pity. 

♦ This was written before the act ancnt the Scotch dutil 
Jerics, of session 1786 ; for which Scotland and the author 
return their most grateful thanks. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 45 

Stand forth, an' tcl! yon Prpniier youth, 
The honest, open, naked trnil: ; 
Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth, 

His servants humble: 
The inuckle Devil bluw ye sourh, 
If ye dissembie ! 

Does onie great man gluncli an' gloom ! 
Speak out, an' never fash your thumb! 
Let posts an' pensions sink or soom 

Wi' them wha grant 'em : 
If honestly they canna come. 

Far better want 'em. 

In gath'ring votes you were na slack ; 
Now stand as tightly by your tark; 
Ne'er claw your lue, afi'fidire your back, 

An' hum an' haw; 
But raise your arm, an' tell your crack 



Paint Scotland grectinir owrc her thrlssle; 
Her mutchkin stoup as tooni's a wliissle ; 
An' d-mn'd excisemen in a bussle, 

Seizin a stell, 
Triumphant crusliiu't like a mussel 

Or lampit shell. 

Then on the tither hand present her, 
A blackguard smuggler right behint lier, 
An chcek-for-chow, a chuffie Vintner 

Colleaguing join, 
ricking her pouch as hare as winter 
Of a' kind coin. 

Is there, that h^^ars the name o' Scot- 
Put feels his heart's bluid .ising hot, 
To see his poor auld mither's pot 

Thus dunir in staves. 

An' plundered o' her liiiidnio.sign.at 

V>y gallows knaves ? 

Alas I I'm but a nameless wight, 
Trode I' the mire an' or.t o' siirht ! 
Bui could I like .Motiicomeiiv^s fiirlit. 

Or L'ab like L'osw. li. 
There's some sark necks I wad draw tight. 

An' tic some liose we!l. 



Before them a'. 



God bless your honours, can ye see% 
The kind, auld, canlie Carlin gieet, 
An' no gel warmly to your feet, 

An' gar tiiem liear it, 
An' tell tlsem vvi' a patriot heat, 

Ye winna bear it! 

Some o' you nicely Icen the laws, 
To round the period, an' pause, 
An' w"' the rhetoric clause on clause 

To niak harangues ; 
Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's 

Auld Scotland's wrangs. 

Dempster, a true-blue Scot I'se warran i 
Thee, ailh-detesiing, chaste Kilkerran;* 
An' that glib-gabbet highland Baron, 

The Laird o' Graham;^ 
An' ane, a chap that's d-mn'd auld farran, 

Dundas his name. 

Erskine, a spunkie Norland billie ; 
True Campbells, Frederick an' Hay; 
All' Livingstone, the baiild Sir Willie; 

An' monie ilhcrs. 
Whom auld Demosthenes and Tully 

Wight own for brithera. 

i I Arouse, my boys ! exert your mettle, 

I To get auld Scotland back her kettle; 

\\ Or, faith: I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle, 

jj Ye'll see't or lang, 

I i She'll leach you wi' a reekin whittle, 

I I Anither sang. 

I i This while she's been in crankous mcMxI, 

I j Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid ; 

j I (Deil na they never mair do guid, 

! ! Play'd her that pliskie !) 

I j An' now she's like to rin rcd-wud, 

I About her \vliiskey. 

j ! An' L— d, if ance they pit her till't, 

Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt, 
An' dirk an' pistol at her btlt, 

She'll lak the streets. 
An' /in her whittle to the hilt, 

r the first she meets 

Sir Adam Ferguson. \ The p ^csent Ihiko qf JMfc® 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 4? 

For G-d's sake, Sirs! then speak her fair 
An' straik licr caiinie vvi' the hair, 
An' to the niuckle house repair, 

VVi' instant speed, 
An' strive wi' a' your wits an' Icar, 
To get remead. 

Yon iir-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, 
May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks : 
But gie him't het, my hearty cocks! 

E'en cowe tlie caddie : 
An' send him to liis dicing box 
An' sporting hidy. 
Tell yon guid b!uid o' anld Boconnock's 
I'll be his debt twa niaFJilum bonnocks, 
An' drink his health in anld J^ansc Timiock's* 

Nine times a week. 
If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks, 

Wad kindly sick. . • 

Could he some covivmtation broach i i 

I'll pledjre my alth in guid braid Scotch, ! j 

He need na fear their foiil reproach j j 

Nor erudition, j j 

Yon mixtia-maxtie queer hotch-potch, ' j 

TliO Coalition. \ j 

Auld Scotland has a raucle tcngue • i i 

She's just a liovil wi' a rung; ' I 

An' if she promise auld or young ' 

To tak their part", \ j 

The' by the neck she should be strung, I i 

SJie'li no desert. I I 

I 

An' now, ye chosen Fiveand-Furty, \ 

May still your mither's heart supnorl ye ; i 

Then, though a niinistcr grow dorty j 

An' kick your place, i 

Ye'll snap j-our fingers, poor an' hearty, I 1 

Cefore his face. I ! 



God bless your honours a' your days, 
Wi' sowps o" kail an' biaits o' claite, 
In spite o' a' the thievish kaes. 

That haunt Saint Jamie's! 
\ our hunible poet <ings an' prays 

While Rab liis name is. 
• A worthy old hostess of the author's in Mauch line, 
Where he smnetimca studies politics over a eUiss otnuid auld 
Scotch drink. " ^ 



48 POEMS, 

POSTSCRIPT. 

Let half-starved slaves, in warmer skies, 
i I See future wines, rich-clusl'ring, rise ; 

1 ! Their lot auld Scotland ne'er envies, 

: I But blytlie and frisky, 

j I She eyes her free born, martial boys 

!j Tak air their whiskey. 

What tho' their Phoebus kinder vi^arras. 
While fragrance blooms and beauty charms ! 
When wretches range, in famish'd swarms, 

The scented groves ; 
Or hounded forth, dishonour arms 
In hungry droves! 

Their gun's a burden on their shouther; 
They downa bide the stink o' pouther ; 
Their bauldest thought's a hank'ring swithet 

To Stan' or liii. 
All skelpt— a shot;— they're aif a throwther. 
To save their skin. 

But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, 
Clap in Jiis clieek a Highland gill, 
Say, such is royal George's will, 

An' there's the foe. 
He hag nae thousht but how to kill 

Twa at a blow. 

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doublings lease him ; 
Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him ; 
Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gies him : 

An' when he fa's. 
His latest draught o' brethin le.i'es him 
In faint huzzas. 

Sages their solemn een may steek, 
An' raise a philosophic reek, 
An' physically causes seek, 

In clime an' season ; 
But tell me whiskey's name in Greek, 
I'll tell th8 reason. 

' Scotland, my auld respected miihcr! 

I Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather, 

Till what ye eit. on craps o' hcnihcr, 
t Yc tin your dam ; 

} {Pfccdotn and veMskey gang thegither !) 

i Tak aff your dram i 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 



ADDRESS TO THE D E I L. 

O Prince I O Chief of mavy Ihroned Pow'rs, 
That led the embatUed Seraphim to war. 

Milton. 

O THOU ! whatever title suit tliee, 
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, 
Wha in yon cavern, grim an' sootie, 

Cios'd under hatclies, 
Spairges about tlie bninstanc cootie, 

To scaud poor wretches! 

Hear mo, aiild Ilangie, for a wee, 
An' let poor damned ixidies be ; 
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can yie. 

E'en to a Deil, j 

To skelp an' scaud poor dojys like nie, 

An' liear us squeel! i 

Great is thy power, an' great tliy fame ; 
Far kenn'd and ncted is thy name; 
An' the' yon lowin Iieugh's thy Iiame, 

Tliou travels far ; 
An' faith thou's neither lag nor lame, 

Nor blale nor scaur. 

Whyles ranging like a roarin lion, 
For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin ; 
Whyles on the stroiig-wiiig'd tempest flyin, 

TirJin the kirks ; 
Whyles in the Inimaii bosom pryin, 

Unseen thou lurks. 

I've heard my reverend grannie say. 
In lanely glens ye hke to stray ; 
Or where auld, ruin'd castles,' gray, 

Nod to the moon. 
Ye fright tlie nightly wand'rcr's way, 
Wi' eldritch croon. 

When twiliglit did my grannie summon, 
To §ay her pr.iyers, douce, honest woman ! 
Aft yont the dyke she's heard you hummia 

Wi' eerie drone; j i 

Or ru8tlin thro' tlie boolrics comin, i 

Wi' heavy groan. j 

Ae dreary, windy, winter night, | j 

Tbe eiars sLoi down wi' gkientin litihl ; j 



■i so FOEJIS, 

'. I Wr y.m, mysel, I gat ;i fright, 

I j " Ayoiil the lough : 

i I ' Ye, like a rash-bush, stood hi sight, 

I: VVi'vvaviiig sugh. 

1 i Tlie cudijii in my riiev(3 did sliake, 

I i Each bristl'd hair stood hike a staiie, 

j i When, wi' an eldritch stour, quaick— quaick- 

j I Ainang the springs, 

i ; Av>-a' yo sqnatler'd, hice a drake, 

j i On whisthng wings. 

j i Let warlocks grim, an' vvilher'd haga, 

I j Tell now wi' yoa on ragweed nags, 

i i They skim the nmirs, an' dizzy crags, 

i I WV wicked spe'ed ; 

I ; And in kiikyards renew their leagues, 

j I Owre liovvkit dead. 

j 1 Thence countia wives, wi' toil, an' pain, 

I ! May plunge an' phinge the kirn in vain ; 

■ j For, oh ! liie yellow treasure's taen 

I j By witchiiig skill; 

I I An' dawtit, twal-pint Hawkic's gaen 
; As yell's the Bill. 

i Thence mystic knots mak great abuse, 

I On young guidmen, fond, keen, an' crouae ; 

I When the best wark-Iunie i' tlie hoiise 

I By cantrip wit, 

j j Is instant made no worth a louse, 

; j Just at the bit. 

! j When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord ; 

i I And float the jingling icy-boord, 

. j Then joater-kelpia haunt tlie toord, 

i j By your direction, 

! I An' nighted trav'lleis are allur'd 

i i To their destruction. 

: ! An' aft your moss-traversinj; f^pvxkies 

\ j Decoy the wight that late an' drunk Is: 

I ■ The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkiea 
j { Delude his eyes, 

i Till in some miry slough he sunk is, 

I I Ne'er mair to rise. 

j I When Jilasoji's mystic word an' grip 

• \ In storms an' tempests raise you up, 

I i Some cock or cat your rage maun stop, 

' i Or, strange to tell ! 

I i The youngest brother ye wad whip 

li Affstraughttoh-11. 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 51 

Long s)me, in Eden's bonie yard, 
When youUifu' lovers first were pair'd, 
An' a' the sauI of love ihey shar'd 

The raptnr'd hour ; 
Sweet on the fragrant flow'ry swaird, 

In shady bow'r: 

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog . 
Ye came to Paradise incog. 
An' play'd on man a cursed brogue, 

(Black be your fa' !) 
An' gied the infant warld a shog, 

'Maist ruin'd a'. 

D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz, 
Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz, 
Ye did present your smoulie phiz, 

'Mang better folk, 
An' tsklented on the man of Uz 

Yourspitefu' joke? 

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall, 
An' brak him out o' house an' hall, 
While scabs and blotches did him gall, 

Wi' bitter claw, 
An* lows'd his ill-tongu'd wicked Scawl, 

Was warst ava 1 

But a' your doings to rehearse. 
Your wily snares an' fetchin fierce. 
Bin' that day Michael* did you pierce, 

Down to this time. 
Wad ding a' Lalland tongue, or Erse, 

In prose or rhyme. 

An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin i 

A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin, i 

Borne luckless hour will send him linhin. 

To your black pit ; 
But, faith, he'll turn a corner jinkin, I { 

An* cheat you yet. i 

But, fare you weel, auld mckie-htn t 
O wad ye tak a thought an' men' 
Ye aibllns mright— I diima ken — 

Still hae a stake— I 

Tm wae to think upo' your den. 

Ev'n for your seike ! 



Fide Milton, Book VI 



I 52 POEMS, 

i 

j ON THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S 

j , PEREGRINATIONS THROUGH SCOTLAND, COLLXCTIMa TBI 

! ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM. 

! Hear, land o' cakes, and brither Scots, 

I Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's 

! If there's a hole in a' your coats, 

j I rede ye tent it : 

A chiel's amang you taking notes, 
I And, faith, he'll prent it 

I If in your bounds ye chance to light, 

Upon a fine, fat, fodgil wight, 
O' stature short, but genius bright, 

j That's he, mark weel— 

j And vow ! he has an unco slight 

I 0' eauk and keel. 

' By some auld, houlet-haunted-biggin,* 

Or kirk deserted by its riggin. 
It's ten to ane ye'U find him snug in 

Some eldritch part, 
Wi' Deils, they say, L— d safe's ! colleaguin 

At some black art. 

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or cbam'er, 
Ye glpsey-gang that deal in glamor. 
And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar 

Warlocks and witches ; 
Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer, 
Ye midnight b es. 

It's tauld he was a sodger bred, 

And ane wad rather fa'n than fled ; 

But now he's quat the spurtle blade. 

And dog-skin wallet, 

Andtaen the — Antiquarian trade, 

I think they call it. 

I He has a feuth o' auld nick-nackets ! 

Rusty aim caps and jinglin jackets,! 
! Wad hand the Loihians three in tacketfl, 

i A towmont guid; 

i And parritch-pats, ami auld saut-backets, 

i Before the flood. 

I 

I ! • Vide his Jintiqvities of Scotland. 

I I f Vide hia Treatise on .Ancient .Armour and Weapent* 

\\ 

II 
I 
! 

1 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. S'i \ 

Of ijve's first fire lie lias a cinder ; i 

Auld-Tubal Cain's firc-slioo! and fender; i 

That which disiinguished the gender | 

O' Balaam's ass ; i 

A broom-stick o' the wiicii of Endor, 1 

Weel shod \vi' brass. i 

Forbye he'!! shape you aff, fu' gleg, I 

The cut of Adam's pbilibeg : | 

The knife that nicket Abel's craig j 

Ile'Jl prove you fully. 
It was a faulding joctelcg, 

Or lang kail-guillie. I 

But wad ye see liim In his glee, ■ 

For meikle glee and fun has he, { 

Then sot him down, and twa or three ; 

Guid fellows wi' him : ; 

And port, O port I shine thou a wee, ■ 

And thei j'e'll see him! 1 

Now, by the powers c verse and prose ! i 

Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose ! } 

Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose, . 

They sair misca' tliee ; | 

I'd tak the rascal by tlie nose, ! 

Wad say. Shame fa' thee I | 



LIJfES 

: 1 

VmiTTKN IN A WRAPPER, ENCLOSING A LETTER TO CAPTAIN ■ 

eROSE, TO«E LEFT WITH MR. CARDONNEL, AMTIQDARLAN. | | 

Time—"' Sir John Malcolm." \ \ 

Ken ye aught o' Captain Grose t i \ 

Igo, and ago, ! j 

If he's araang his friends or foes 1 j | 

Iram, coram, dago. ; i 

Is he south, or is he north "? ! I 

Igo, and ago, i j 

Or drowned in the river Forth ? j I 

Iram, coram, dago. I \ 

Is he slain by Highland bodies 1 1 \ 

Igo, and ago, ! \ 

And eaten like a weather haggis 1 i j 

Iram, coram, dago j ! 

1 1 



F0EM3, 

Is be to Abram's bosom gane ? 

Igo, and ago, 
Or hauden Sarah by the wane ? 

Irani, coram, dago. 

Where'er he be, tlie Lord be near him! 

Igo, and ago, 
As Cor the Deil, he durst na steer him, 

Irani, coram, dago. 

But please transmit tl'e enclosed letter, 

Igo, and ago, 
Whicli will oblige your humble debtor, 

Irani, coram, dago. 

So may ye hae aiild stanes in store, 

Igo, and ago, 
The very stanes that Adam bore. 

Iram, coram, dago. 

So may ye get in glad possession, 

Igo, and ago, 
Tlie coins o' Satan's coronation ! 

Iram, coram, dago. 



EPIGRAM OJf CaPTAIJ^ OliOSE. 

The Ueil got notice lliat Grose was a-dying, 

So whip ! at the summons, old Satan rame flying ; 

But when he approacli'd where poor Francis lay moaning, 

And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning. 

Astonished ! confounded ! cry'd Satan, by G— d, 

Vll want 'im, era I take such a d b!e load.* 



* Mr. Grose lo as cxcuedinn-ly corpulent, mid used to rally 
himsp.lf wiih the greatest good humour, on the singular ro' 
tundittj of his figure. This Epigram, written by Bums, in 
a moment of festivity, teas so much relished bij the antiqua- 
rian, that lir. made it serve as an excuse for prolonging tke 
tonvini'J./ occa-^-ion tkat gave ii birtk to a very late hotir. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 
LINES 

ON AN INTERVIKW WITH LORD DAIR. 

This wot ye all whom it concerns, 
I Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, 

October twenty-third, 
A ne'er-to-be-forgotlen day, 
Sae far I sprecklcd up the brae, 

I dinner'd wi' a Lord. 

I've been at drucken writers'' feasts, 
Nay, been bitch fou 'mang godly priests, 

Wi' rev'rcnce be it spoken : 
I've even join'd the honour'd jorum, 
When mighty squireships of the quorum, 

Their hydra drouth did sloken. 

But wi' a Lord— stand out my shin, 
A Lord — a Peer — an Bail's son, 

Up higher yet, my bonnet ; 
And sic a Lord— lang Scotch ells twa, 
Our peerage he o'erlooks them a', 

As I look o'er my sonnet. 

But oh for Hogarth's magic pow'r J 
To sliow Sir Bardy's willyart glow'r. 

And how he star'd and stammer'd 
When goavan, as if led wi' branks. 
An' stumpin on his ploughman shanks, 

He in the parlour hammer'd. 



I sliding shelter'd in a nook, 
An' at his lordship steal' t a look 

Like some portentous omen ; 
Except good sense and social glee, 
An' (wliat gurpris'd me) modesty, 

I marked nought uncommon. 

I watch'd the symptoms o' the great. 
The gentle pride, the lordly state. 

The arrogant assuming; 
The fient a pride, nae pride had he, 
Nor sauce, nor state, that I could see, 
Mair than an honest ploughman 



tUe, ) 

... \ 



SO POEMS, 

Then t mm Ins Lordship I shall learn, 
Ilencelc-nh to meet with ui.concern 

One rank as well's another : 
Nae honesty worthy man need care, 
j To meet with noble, youthful Daer, 

For he but meets a brother. 



THE LrFEJVTORY, 

fa ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR OF TAB TAZBfl. 

Sir, as your mandate did request, 
I send you here a faithfu' list, 
O' glides an' gear, an' a' my graitli, 
To which I'm clear togie my aith 

Imprimis ti;en, for carriage cattle, 
I h;»ve four brutes o' gallant melt! 
As ever drew afore a pettle. 
Riy Lan' afore' s* a guid auld has-been. 
An' wight an' wi'fu' a' his days been. 
My /.an" ahiti'st a weel gaun (illie, 
I'hat an has horsi!; n«.e hame frae ICillie.J 
An' your aiilil burro' ujonie a lime, 
In i!;;ys wl-.en riding was nae crime- 
Hut ance wh^n in my wooing pride 
I, like a blockhead, boost to ride, 
'J'iie wilfu' creature sac I pat to, 
ili—d pardon a' my siiss an' that too 1} 
t play'd njy filiie sic a sliavie. 
She's a' hcdevii'd \vi' the spavie. 
My [fiur ahiii'n'^ a wordy beast^ 
As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd. 
The fourth's a Iliirhland Doiiald Iiastis 
A d— ii'd rsd-wud KiJburnie blasiia 
Forbye a Cowt c' Cowl's the wale 
As ever ran afore a taih 
!f he be spar'd to be a beast, 
He'll draw iue fifteen pun' at least. 

Wheel carriages [ hae but Ccw, 
Three carts, an' twa are feckly new ; 
Ane auid wheel-barrow, uiair for token 
;\ii log an' baitli the trams are broken ; 

* The fore-horse on the left-hand in the ploxigh. 

\ TTie hindmost on the left-hand in the plough. 

I Kilmarnock. 

^ The hindmost horse on the right hand in the plough^ 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 57 

I made a poker o' the spin'le, j 

An' my auld mither brunt the trin'le. 

For men, I've three mischievous boys, 
Run deils for rantin and for noise ; 
A gaudsman ane, a thrasher t'other, 
Wee Davock hands tl e newt in fother. 
I rule them as 1 ought, discryetly, 
An' after labour them comp.eteiy. 
An' ay on Sundays duly nightly, 
I on the duestions targe them tightly ; 
Till faith! wee Davock's turn'd sae gleg, 
Tho' scarcely langer than your leg. 
He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling, 
As fast as onie in the dwalling. 
I've nane in female servan' station, 
(L— d keep me ay frae a' temptation !) 
I hae na wife ; and that my bliss is, 
An' ye have laid na tax on misses ; 
An' then if kirk folks dinna clutch me, 
1 ken the devils dare na touch me. 



waiiicu. 

t Bess, ) 
ce; ) 



Wi' weans I'm mair than weel contented, 
Heav'n sent me ane niae than I wanted. 
Rly sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess, 
She stares the daddie in her face, 
Enough of aught ye like but grace ; 
But her, my bonie, sweet, wee lady, 
I've paid eneugh for her already, 
An' gin ye tax her or her mither, 
B' the L— d, ye'se get them a' thegither. 

And now, remember, Mr. Aiken, 
Nae kind of license out I'm takin : 
Frae this time forth, I do declare, 
I'se ne'er ride horse nor hizzle mair; 
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle, 
Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle ; 
My travel a' on foot I'll shank it, 
've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit. 

The kirk an' 3-ou may tak you that. 
It puts but little in your pat : 
Sae dinna put me in your buke. 
Nor for my ten white shillings luke. 

This list, wi' my ain hand I wrote it, 
Day and date as under notit. 
Then know all ye whom it concerns, 
Subscripsi huic, ROBERT BURNS 

Mossgiel, Feb. 22, 1786. 

Yo£. n. B 



S8 POEMSf 

TO A LOUSE, 

ON 8BEIKO ONE ON X LADY'S BONNET AT CHUKCB. 

IIa ! wliare j'e gaun, ye crowlin ferlie ! 
Your i.Tipudence protects you sairly ; 
I canna say but ye strum rarely 

Owre pauze and lace ; 
Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely 
On sic a place. 

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit v onner, 
Detested, shunn'd, by sann and sinner, 
How dare ye set your fit u; m her, 

Sae fine a lady ! 
Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner 
On some poor body. 

Swith. in some beggar's haffet squattlo: 
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and apratti* 
Wi' ilhcr kindred jumpin cattle, 

In shoals and nations : 
Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle 
Your thick plantationa. 
Now haud ye there, ye' re out o' sight, 
Below the fatl'rils, snug an' tight: 
Na, faith ye yet ! ye' II no be right 
Till ye've got on it, 
The vera tapmost, tow'ring height, 
O' Miss's bonnet. 
1 1 My sooth : right bauld ye set your noae outt 

I j As plump and gray as onie grozet ; 

! O for some rank, mercurial rozet, 

!| Or fell redsmeddum, 

I j Vd gie you sic a hearty doze o'l, 

I I Wad dress your droddum t 
! j I wad na been surpris'd to spy 

j You on an auld wife's flainen toy ; 

! i Or aihlens some bit duddie boy, 

I i On's wyiiecoat ; 

I I But Miss's fine Ijunardi ! fie, 

1 1 How dare you do't ! 

I ! O, Jenny, dinna toss your head, 

i I An' sot your beauties a' abread ! 

j '[ Ye little ken what cursed speed 

! 1 Tlie blastie's makin ! 

i i Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread, 

\\ Are notice takin ! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 99 

O wad some Pow'r ihe giftie gie lis 
To see ourseis as others see us ! 
It wad frae monie a blunder free us 
And foolisli notion ; 
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, 

And ev'n Dcvcilioii ! 1 

! 



ADDRESS TO THE TOOTH-ACHE. 
Mv curse upon ihy venom'd stang, i 



That shoots my tortur'd gums alang ; 
An' tliro' my higs gies monie a twang, 

VVi' gnawing vengeance ; 
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pant:, 

Like racking engines ! 
When fevers burn, or ague freezes, 
Rheumatics gnaw, or colic squeezes, 
Our neighbour's sympatliy may ease us, 

Wi' pitying moan ; ' 
But thee — thou liell o' a' diseases, 

Ay mocks our groan ! 
Adown my beard the slavers trickle ! 
I throw the wee stools o'er the mickle, 
As round the (ire the giglets keckle 

To see me loup ; 
While raving nind I wisli a heckle 

Were in their doup. 
O' a' the num'rous human dools, 
in har'sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools, 
Or worthy friends i ack'd i' the mods, 

Sad sight to see ! 
The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' foolst 

Thou bear'st the gree. 
Wliere'er that place be priests ca' helt, 
Wliencea' tlie tunes o' mis'ry yell. 
And ranked plagues tlieir numbers tell, 

in dreadfu' raw, 
Thou, Tooth-ache, surely bear'st the bdl 

Amang them a' I 
O tliou grim mischief-making chiel, 
That gars the notes of discord stiueel, 
Till daft mankind aft dance a reel 

m gore a shoe-thick ; 
Gie a' tlie faes o' Scotland's weal 

A lo« nmond's T( cth-ache' 



ii 



! I 60 POEMS, 



TO A HAGGIS, 

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, 
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race ! 
Aboon them a' ye tali your place, 

Painch, trlpo, or tiiairm: 
Wee I are yc wordy of a grace 

As lang's my arm. 

The groaning trencher tliere you fill. 
Your hurdies like a distant hill, 
Your pin wad help to mend a mill 

In time o' need, 
While thro' your pores the dews distil 

Like amber bead. 

His knife see rustic labour diglit, 
An' cut you up wi' ready slight, 
Trenching your gusliing entrails bright, 

Like onie ditch ; 
And then, O what a glorious sight, 

Warm- reeking, rich ! 



; I Then horn for horn they stretch an' strive, 

I Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive ; 

I Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve 

j Are bent like drums, 

: Then auld guidman, maist like to rive, 

! Bethankit Imms. 



I j Is there that o'er his French ragout^ 

• 1 Or olio that wad staw a sow, 

|i Or/rtcas5e wad mak her spew 

i I Wi' perfect sconner, 

I j Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view 

i On sic a dinner ? 

I j Poor Devil ! see him owre his trash, 

j I As feck'.ess as a wither'd rash, 

I j His spindle-shank, a guid whip-lash, 

I I Ills nieve a nit; 

I Thro' bloody flood or field to dash, 

j I O how fiunt ! 

I I But mark the rustic, haggis-fed, 

j j The trembling earth resounds his tread, 

I I Clap hi his walie nieve a blade, 
He'll mak it whistle : 

An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned, 
Like taps o' thissle. 



CHIEFfjY SCOTTiSii. 

Ye row'rs wlia mak mankind your care, 
And dish them out tlieir bill o' fare, 
Auld Scotland wants na skiiiking ware 

That jaui)s in luggies ; 
But, if ye wish her gratefu' i)ray'r, 
Gie her a llarrsis 1 



THE HOLY FAIR.* 

^rohe of seemivrr truth and trust 

Hid crafty Observation; 
^nd secret hung^ with poison'' d crust, 

The dirk of Defamation : 
A mask that like the gorget shoio'dy 

Dye-varying on the pigeon; 
And for a mantle large and broad, 

Jle wrapt him in Keligion. 

Hypocrisy a-la-modb , , 

I. I 
Upon a simmer Sunday morn, 

When Nature's face is fair, i 

I walked forth to view the corn, 

An' snulTthe caller air, 
Thj rising sun owre Galston niuirs, 

Wi' glorious light was glintin ; 
The hares were iiirpiiu down tlie furs, i 

The lav'rocks they were cliantin | 

Fu' sweet tliat day. i 

II. i 
As Ilphtsomely I glowr'd abroad, ' I 

To see a scene sae gay, j 

Three Hiz/ies, early at the road ! 

Cam skelpin up the way ; ' 

Twa had mantecles o' dolefu' black, ] 

But anc wi' lyart lining ; I 

Tho third, that gacd a-weea-back. I 

Was in Uie fashion shining, j 

Fu' gay that day. ! 

• Holy Pair is a common puraee in the west of Scctlaud \ 

/l>r a sacramental occasion. 



62 POEMS, 

III. 

The ttca appear'd like sisters twin, 
In feature, form, an' claes ; 

Their visage, wiilier'd, lang, an' thin, 
An' sour as onie slaes ; 

The third cam up, hap-step-an'-loup, 
As light as onie lainbie. 

An' \vi' a cuichie low did stoop, 
As soon as e'er she saw me, 

Fu' kind that day. 
IV. 
^Vi' bonnet aft", quoth I, " Sweet lass, 

I tliink ye seem to ken nie ; 
I'm sure I've seen that bonie face, 

But yet I canna name ye." 
Q,uo' she, an' laughing as she spak, 
! j An' taks me by the hands, 

i ; " Ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck 

! ! Of a' the ten commands 

j [ A screed some day. 

ii V. 

I i «« My name is Fun— yonr cronie dear, 
I j The nearest friend ye liae ; 

} j An' this is Superstition here, 
j I An' that's Hypocrisy. 

\ \ I'm gaun to ■ Holy Fair, 

I To spend an hour in daffin ; 

j Gin ye'll go thare, yon runkl'd pair, 
! I We will get famous laughin 

i i At them this day.'' 



VI. 

Quoth I, " With a' my heart, I'll do't? 

I'll get my Sunday's sark on. 
An' meet you on the holy spot ; 

Faith we'se hae fine rcmarkin !" 
Then I gaed liamc at crowdie time, 

An' soon I made me ready ; 
For roads were clad, frac side to side, 

Wi' monie a weary body. 

In droves that day. 

vri. 

Here fhrmeri gasli, in ridin graith. 

Gacd hoddin by their cotters; 
There, swunkies, young, in braw braid cloth 

Are Bpringin o'er the gutters ; 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 63 

The lasses, skelpin barcfit, thrang, 

In Bilks an' ecarlcts gliiter ; 
Wi' ameet-viilk cheese, in nionie a whang, 

Au' furls bak'tl vvi' butter 

Fu' crump liiat day. 

VIII. 

When by tlie plate we set our tiose, i i 

We*! heaped up wi' he'[)ence, j 

A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throwa, [ 

An' '.ve maun draw our tiiipence. j 

Then in we go to see the show, 1 1 

On ev'ry side they're gathrin, i 

Some carrying dales, some chairs an' stooi, | 

An' some are busy blethrin ; 

Riglit loud thai day. I 

IX. ^ I 

Here stands a shed to fend the sliow'rs, I 

An' screen our counira gentry. 

There racer Jess, an' twa-tliree wh-rc8, 1 

Are blinkin at the entry. j 

Here sits a raw of tilllin jades, v r 

VVi' heaving breast and bare neck, i 

An' there a batch of wabster lads, i j 

Blackguarding frae K ck, ( ' 

For fun this day. 'i \ 

X. jl 
Here some are thinking on their sins, 1 1 

An' some upo' their claes ; h 

Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, ! i 

Anilher sighs an' piays : i j 

On this hand sits a cho-sen swatch, ! 1 

Wi' screw'd up grace-proud faces; \> 

On ih.it a set o' chaps at watcli, j \ 

Thrang winkin on tlie lasses 1 1 

To chairs tliat day. |i 

XI. \\ 
O happy is that man an' blest ! f j 

Na'! wonder lliat it pride him ! | ! 

Wbase ain ilear lass, that he likes beat, 1 ! 

Comes clinkin down beside hirn ! \ \ 

Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back, ^[ 

He sweetly does compose him ! ■;; 

WiJlch, by degrees, slips round her neck, j ; 

An's Icof upon hor bosom, ; ; 

Unkcnn'd that day. 5; 



64 POEMS, 

XII. 
Now a' the congregation o'er 
Is silent expectation ; 

For speels the lioly door, 

Wi' tidings o' d-inn-t— n. 
Sliould Hornie, as in ancient days, 
' Mang sons o' G — present him, 

Tlie very sight o' 's face, 

To's ain het hame had sent him 
Wi' fright that day. 

XIII. 
Hear how he clears the points o' faith 

Wi' rattlin an' wi' thumpin ! 
Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, 

He's stampin, an' he'sjumpin! 
His lengthen'd chm, his turn'd-up snout, 

His eldritch squeel and gestures, 
O liow they fire the heart devout, 

Liiie cantharidian plasters, 
On sic a day ! 

XIV. 

But hark ! the tent has chang'd its voice; 

There's peace an' rest nae langer; 
For a' the realjudffes rise. 

They canna sit for anger. 
opens out his cauld harangues. 

On practice and on morals ; 
An' aff the godly pour in thrangs, 

To gie the jars an' barrels 
A lift that day. 

XV. 

What signifies his barren shine, 

Of moral pow'rs and reason? 
His English style, an' gesture fine, 

Are a' clean out o' season. 
Like Socrates or Jlntonine, 

Or some auld pagan Heathen, 
The moral man lie does define, 

But ne'er a word o' faith in 

That's right that day. 
XVI. 
In guid time comes an antidote 

Against the poison'd nostrum ; 
For , frae the water-fit, 

Ascends the holy rostrum : 



CUIE FLY SCO TTISH. m 

Sae. up he's got the word o' G— , 

An meek an' mim has view'd it, 
While Common Sevsc lias laen tlie road, 

An' aff, an' up the Cowgate,* 

Fast, fast, that day. 

XVII. 

Wee , niest, the guai d rolieveSj 

An' Orthodoxy raihies, 
The' in liis heart he weel bt " es^ 

An' thinks it aiild wives t'; s; 
But, faith : the biikie wants r mse, 

So, cannily he hums them , 
Altho' his carnal wit and sens j 

Like hafflins-ways o'ercome m j 

At limes that d; - 

XVIII. j 

Now butt an' ben, the Change-house fills I 

Wi' yill-caup Commentators : I } 

Here's crying out for bakes and gills, j i 

An' there the pint stowp clatters ; 1 1 

While thick an' thranp, an' loud an' lang, I ; 

Wi' Logic, an' wi' Scripture, 
They raise a din, that in the end. 

Is like to breed a rupture 

O' wrath that day. 

XIX. i 
Leeze m in drink I it gies us mair i 

Than e 'er school or college : i 

II kindles \ t, it waukeris lair, i ■ 

It pangs b foil o' knowledge. j j 

Bc't whiskey gill, or penny wliecp, ; I 

Or onie stronger potion, ; i 

It never fails, on drinking deep, ! i 

To kittle up our notion ; | 

By night or day. ; | 

XX. I j 

The lads an' lasses blithely bent | i 

To mind bailh sn;:! an' body, | j 

Sit I'uuid the table weel conienf, I 

An' steer about the toddy. ■ j 



3 strut 80 called, wkich faces the ton! in 



Oil this ane's dress, an' thai ane's leuk. 
They're making observations ; 

While some are cozie i' the neuk, 
An' formin' assignations. 

To meet some day 

XXI. 

But now the L— d's ain trumpet touts, 

Till a' the hills are rairin, 
An' echoes back return the shouts: 

Black is na spairin : 

His piercing words, like Highland swordi, 

Divide the joints an' marrow : 
His talk o' H-11, wliere devils dwell, 

Our vera souls doijs hanow* 

VVi* fright that day. 

xxn. 

A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit, 

Fll'd fou o' lowin brunstane, 
Wlia's raging flame, an' scorchin heat, 

Wad melt the hardest whnnstane! 
The lialf-aslcep start up wi' fear, 

An' tliiuk they hear it roarin, 
When presently it does appear, 

'Twas but some neebor snorin 
Asleep that day. 

XXIII. 
'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell 

How monie stories past, 
An' how they crowded to the yill, 

Wlien they were a' dismist : 
How drink gacd round, in cogg an' caupa, 

Amang tlie fiinns an' benches; 
An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps. 

Was dealt about in lunches 

An' dawds that day. 

XXIV. 

In comes a gaucie, ga^h Gaudwlfe, 

An' sits down by the fiie, 
Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife, 

The lasses tliey are shyer. 



Shaksptarc' t ffamUt 



CHIE FL Y SCO TTISU. 91 

Tb« auld Guidmen, about the grace, 

Frae eide lo side they bother, 
TUI some ane by his bonnet lays, 

An' gies ihem't lilce a tether, 

Fu' lang that day. 

XXV. 

Waesucks ! for him that gets nae lass. 

Or lasses that hae naething! 
Sma' need has he to say a grace, 

Or melvie his brfMv claiihing! | 

O wives, be mindfu' ance yoursel, 

How bonie lads ye wanted, i 

An' dinna, for a kebb\ick-heel, 

I et lasses be aiftonted 

On sic a day ! 

xxvr. 

Now ClinKumhcll, wi' rattlin tow, I 

Begins to jow an' croon : ! 

Some swagger Iinmo tiie best they dow, I 

Some wait the afternoon. j 

At slaps the billies halt a blink, j 

Till lasses strip their shoon : 

Wl' faith and hope, an' love an' drink, i 

'fhey're a' in famous tunc, i 

For crack that day. j 

XXVIl. j 

How mouie hearts this day converts, I 

O' sinners and o' lasses ! | 

Their hearts o' stane, gin night are gan«, | 

Ab saft as onie flesii 's. 
There's some are fou o' love divine ; 

There's some are fou o' brandy ; | 

An' monie jobs that day btgin, ! 

May end In Houghmagandie 

Some itber day. i 

I 
___ 1 

THE ORDINATION. 

Fbr ttnst they litde otoe to frugal Heaven-" 
TV pleue the mob they hide the little giv'n. 
I. 
KlLXARSOCK wabsters fidge an' claw, 
An* pour yoar crceshie nation* ; 



I Ks TCEJiAS, 

I An' ye wha leather rax an' drav^, 

I Of a' denominations, 

I Svvitii to the Laiffk Kirk, ane an' a' 

j An' there tak up your stations ; 

j * Then aff to £-^6— 's in a raw, 

An' pour divine libations 

For joy this day. 

II. 

Curst Common Sense, that imp o' h-U, 

Cam in vvi' Maggie Liauder;* 
But O ^- aft made lier yell, 

An' R sair misca'd her : 

This day M' takes the flail, 

And lie's the boy will bland her! 
He'll clap a shangan on her tail, 

An' set the bairns to daub her 

Wi' dirt tliis day. 

il "'■ 

I j Mak haste, an' turn King David owre, 

I An' lilt wi" holy clangour; 

I ! O' double verse come jrie us four, 

i • An' skill up the Bangor; 

[ Tliis day the Kirk kicks up a stour, 

Nae mair the knaves shall vvrang her, 
For lieresy is in her pow'r, 
An' gloriously she'll vvang her 

Wi' pith tJiis day. 

IV. 

Come, !ft a proper text be read, 

An' touch it aft'wi' vigour, 
How graceless Ham\ leugh at his Dad, 

Which made Canaan a niger ; 
Or PhineasX drove the nnirdering blade 

\WV wh-re-abhorring rigour ; 
Or Zipporak'^, the scaulding jade, 

Was like a bluidy tiger 

I' til' inn that day. 

* Alludinft to a scoffing ballad which was made on the ud 
mission of the late reverend and tcorthy Jilr. £,. to the LMigi 
Kirk. 

t fienesis, c. ix. ver. 22. J JSTuvibers^ e, XXV. ««■. 8, 

<^ Exodus, ch. iv. vcr. 25. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 



There, try liis mettle on the creed, 

And bind liim down wi' caution, 
That Stipend is a carnal weed 

He taks but for the fashion ; 
And gie him o'er the flock, to feed, 

And punish each iransgression ; 
Especial, rams that cross the breed. 

Gie tiiem sufficier.t threshin, 

Spare them nac day. 

VI. 
Now auld Kilmarnock^ cock thy tail, 

And loss thy horns fu' canty; 
Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the d 

Because thy paF,.ire's scanty ; 
For lapfu's large o' gospel kail 

Shall fill thy crib in plenty, 
An' runts o^' grace the pick and wale, 

Nogien by way o' dainty. 
But ilka day. 

VII. 
Nae mair by BabeVs streams we'll weep 

To think upon our Zion; 
And hing our fiddles up to sleep, 

Like baby-clouts a-dryin. 
Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep, 

And o'er the thairms be tryin ; 
Oh, rare ! to see our elbucks wheep. 

An' a' like lamb-tails flying 

Fu' fast this day ! 

viir. 

Lang patronage^ wi' rod o' airn 

Has shor'd the kirk's undoin, 
A3 lately F-nw-ck, sair forfairn, 

Has proven to its ruin : 
Our Patron, honest man ! Glencaim^ 

He saw mischief was brewin : 
And, like a godly elect bairn, 

He's wal'd us out a true ane, 

And sound tliis day. 
JX. 
Now R harangue nae mair, 

But steek your gab for ever : 
Or try the wicked town of ./3yr, 

For there they'll think you ctever; 



TO POEJfS, 

Or, nae rpilfjction on ya\jr lea.,. 
Ye may cniiiiiK.nce'a shaver; 

Di lo li.e J\i'-th-rl-7i repair. 
And tiHii a carpet weaver 

AfTliaiul tJiig day. 

X. 

H and you woio just a match, 

We never had sic twa drones ; 
Auld Horiiie did tlie Laijrli Kirk watch^ 

Just like a winkin baudroiis: 
And ay Ire ( atcli'd ilie tither wretch, 

To fry t'icrn in his caiidrdns ; 
But now hi. iKwiour maun detach,. 

VVi' a' \\\i Lrini.'^tone sijuadrons, 
Fast, *";i.-it tills day, 

XL 
See, see nu'd Orthodoxy's faes? 

She's i-.winufein thro'Mie city : 
Hark, h'lw the nine-taii'd cat she plays » 
I vow it's unco pielty : 
i Tiiere, Learrun?, witli liis Greekish face, 

j Grunts out some Latin ditty ; 

And fJomnion s'ense is paun, she sayg^ 
To mak to Jamie Braitie 

llei plaint this day. 
XI!. 
But there's MoraUly liim.se!, 

Embracing all opinions ; 
Hear, how he ciep the tither yell, 
Between his twa companions ,- 
See, now sl>e peels the skin an' feU; 

As ane were peeling onions ! 
N"ow there — they're packed afTto h-IS, 
And banish'd our dominions. 

Henceforth this day. 

XIII. 
O happy day, lejoice, rejoice! 

Come, bouse about the porter ! 
Morality's demure decoys, 

Shall here nae mair find quarter: 
M' , R aro the boyfj, 

That Heresy can torture : 
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, 

And cow her measure shorter 

F5y the head some daj 



VHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 71 

XIV. 

Come, bring the lither mutclikin in, 

And liere's for a conclusion, 
To every JSTew Lif>ht niotlier's boh, 

From iJiis lime lorth, Confusion ; 
If mair Uiey deave us wiiJi their din, 

Or Patronage intrusion, 
We'll light a spunk, and, ev*ry skin, 

We'll rin Uiem atfin fusion 

Like oil, some day. 



ADDRESS 

TO THE UNCO GUID, OR RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. 

My son, these maxims viake a rule^ 

Jind lump them ay thegither; 
The rigid righteous is a fool. 

The rigid wise anither; 
The cleanest corn that e'er teas dight 

May hae some pijles o' caff in; 
So ne'er a fcllow-crcaturc slight 

For random Jits o' daffin. I 

Solomon.— EccLEs. eh. vii. ver. 16. i 

I. 

O YK wha are sae guid yoursel, 

Sae pious and sae holy, 
Ye've nought to do but mark and teU 

Your neebor's faults and folly ! 
Whase life is like a vveel-gaun milJ, 

Supply'd wi' store o' water, 
The hcapit happer's ebbing still, 

And still the clap plays clatter. 

II. 



Hear me, ye venerable core, 

As counsel for poor mortals, 
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door. 

For glaiket Folly's portals ; 
I, for tlicir thoughtless, careless sakes, 

Would here propone defences, 
Their donsie tricks, their black mLslakea, 

Tbeir failings and mischances. 



W POEMS, 

III. 
Ye see your state wi' iheir's compared, 

And shudder at the niffer, 
But cast a moment's fair regard, 

What makes tlie mighty differ ; 
Discount what scant occasion gave, 

That purity ye pride in, 
And (what's aft niair than a' the lave) 

Your better art o' hiding. 

IV. 

Think, wlien your castigated pulse 

Gies now and then a wallop, 
What ragings must his veins convulse, 

That still eternal gallop : 
Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, 

Right on ye scud your sea-way ; 
But in the teeth o' baith to sail. 

It makes an unco leeway. 

V. 

See social life and glee sit down, 
! AH joyous and untliinking, 

j Till quite transmugrify'd, they're growB 

I Debauchery and drinking : 

O, would they slay to calculate 

Th' eternal consequences ; 
Or your more dreaded hell to state, 
Danniation of expenses ! 
VI. 
I Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, 

Ty'd up in godly laces. 
Before ye gie poor frailty names, 

Suppose a change o' cases : 
A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug, 

A treacherous inclination — 

But, let me whisper i' your lug, 

Ye're aiblins nae temptation. 

VII. 

Then gently scan your brother man. 

Still gentler sister woman ; 
Tho' they may gang a kenning wrang; 

To step astJe is human: 
One point must still be greatly dark. 

The moving why they do it ; 
And just as namely can ye mark, 

How far perhaps they rue it. 



CHTEFL Y SCO TTFSH. 73 

VIIL 

Who made the heart, 'lis he alone 

Dficidfdiy can try us, 
lie knows each chord, its various tOEC, 

Each spring— its various bias; 
Th»'ii at the balance let's be mute, 

We never can adjust it ; 
What's done we partly may compute, 

But know not wliai's resisted. 



THE TIVA HERDS.* 

O a' ye |iiou8, godly flocks, 

Well fed on pastures orthodox, ! 

Wha now will keep you frae the fox, | 

Or worrving tykes, 

Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks, ( 

About the dykes 1 ] 

The iwa best herds in a' the wast, ■ 

That e'er gae gospel horn a bl;ist, 1 

These five-and- twenty summers past, I 

O ' doo! to tell, [ 

!Iac had a bitter, black out-cast ! 

Atv/ecn themsel. 1 

O M y, man, and wordy R H, 

How could you raisu so vile a bustle ? 

Ye'll see how new-light herds will whistle, 1 

And think it fine, •; 

The L— d's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle, j 

Sin' 1 hae min'. | 

O, Sirg ! whae'er wad hae expcckit, 
Your duty ye wad sae neL'leckit, 
Ye wJia were ne'er by lair(is respeckit, 

To wear the plaid. 
But by the brutes themselves eleckit. 

To be their guide. 

• This piece was among the first of our author' » praiw 
Uons which he submitted to the public, and was occasioned 
by a dispute between two clergymen, near KUratmock. 

You II. F 



74 POEMS, 

What flock wi' M y's flock could rank, 

Bar Qale and hearty every sliaiik, 
N» poisonM, sour, Ariniiiian stank. 
He let them taste, 
j I ae Calvin's well, ay clear they drank, 

ij O sic a feast! 

I The thummart wil'-cat, brock, and tod, 
j Weel kenn'd his voice thro' a' the wood, 
i } He smell'd tlieir ilka hole and road, 

j'j Baith out and in, 

; j And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid, 

i j And sell their skin. 

j I What herd like R II tell'd his tale, 

I I His voice was heard thro' muir and dale, 
i } He kenn'd the Lord's sheep, ilka tail, 

j j O'er a' the height, 

; I And saw gin ihey were sick or hale, 

j i A I the first sight. 

i I He fine a mangy sheep could scrub, 

j i Or nobly fling the gospel club, 

I And new-light herds could nicely drub, 

j Or pay theii skin, 

I Could shake them o'er the burning dub ; 

Or heave tliem in. 



Sic twa I — O, do I live to see't ! 
Sic famous twa should dlsagreet. 
An' names, like villain, hypocrite, 

Ilk ith(;r gi'en. 
While new-light herds, wi' laughin spite. 

Say neilher's liein' ! 

A* ye wha tent the gospel fauld. 

There's D n deep, and P 

But chiefly thou, apostle A— d, 

We trust in thee. 
That thou wilt work them, hot and cauld. 

Till they agree. 

Consider, Sirs, how we're beset. 
There's scarce a new herd that we get. 
But comes frae 'niang that cursed set, 

I winna name, 
I hope frae heav'n to see iliem yet 
In fiery flame. 



CHIEFL r SCO TTISH. 

D e has been lang our fae, 

M' II has wrought us mcikle wae, 

And that curs'd rascal ca'd M e, 

And baith the S s, 

That aft hae made us black and blae, 

Wi' vengefu' paws. 

Auld W w lang has halch'd mischlefi 

We thought .ly dcatli wad bring relief 
But he has golteti, to our grief, 

Ane to succeed him. 
A chiel wha'U soundly buff our beef 

I mcikle dread him. j I 

And monie a ane that I could tell, i 

Wha fain would openly rebel, j 

Forbye turn-coats amang oursel, j 

Tliere S — h for ane, i 

I doubt he's but a gray nick quill, I 

An' that ye'll fin'. i 

O ! a' ye flocks, o'er a' the hills, ' 

By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells, ' 1 

Come join your counsels and your skill* 

To cnwe the lairds. 
And get the brutes the power themsela 

To choose their herds 

Then Orthodoxy yet may prance, 
And Learning in a woody dance, 
And that fell cur ca'd Conunon Sense, 

Thai biles sae eair, 
Be banish'd o'er the sea to France ; 

Let him bark there. 

Then Shaw's and D'rymple's eloquenc*. 

M' ll's close, nervous excellence, 

M'Q. — 's patiietic manly sense, 

And guid M' h, 

Wi* S— th, wha thto' the heart can glanc* 
May a' pack aif. 

h 

i 






: 76 POE.tIS, 

j THE CALF. 

i TO TIIK RKV. MR. , 

j On his Text, Malachi, cL iv. vcr. 2 " JJnd thsy shall gi 

\ fortli, and <rruio up, like calttes of the stall." 

j Right, Sir ! your text I'll [irove il true, 

I Tlio' Heretics may laiitjli ; 

I For instance, there's your^«■l just now, 

! God knows, an unco Catj'l 

[ And should some Pairon l»e so kind, 

I As hlcss you \vi' a kirk, 

j I doubt na, Sir, but then \v(!'ll fiiui, 

j Ye'ie still as great a Utir/:. 

S But, if the lover's raptur'il hoar 

i IShall ever be your lot, 

I Forbid it, cv'ry lipavenly Power, 

j You e'er should be a Utot! 

I Tho' when some kind, connubial dear, 

I Your but-and-ben adorns, 

j The like has been, that you may wear 

I A noble head of /tor/!.*. 

i And in your Itig, most reverend Jamca, 

j 'J'o hear you roar and rowte, 

■ Few men o' sense will doubt your claims 
; To rank amaiig the nowte. 

; And when yo're nuinbcr'd \vV the dead, 

■ Helow a grassy hillock, 

I Wi' justice tliey may mark your head— 

j " Here lies a famous Uullock I" 



I HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. 

I O THOU, wha in the heavens dost dweU, 

: Wha, as it pleases best ihysel', 

i Sends anj to heaven and ten to hel), 

I A' for thy glory, 

! And no for ony jiuid or ill 

j They've done afore IhceS 

j I bless and praise thy matchless might, 

j Whan thousands thou hast left in uight, 

\ Tbai I am here nfcre thy sight, 

! For gifts an' grace, 

' A bumin an' a shinln light, 

To a' tiiia place. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH, 77 

What was I, or my generation, 
That I should get such exaltation 7 
I, wha deserve sic just damnation, 

For broken laws, 
Five thousand years 'fore my creation, 

Thro' Adam's cause. 

When frae my mither's womb I fell, 
Thou might hae plunged me into hell. 
To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, 

In burnin lake, 
Whare damned devils roar and yell, 
Chain'd to a staik. 

Yet I am here, a chosen sample, 
To show tliy grace is great an' a,r.?ie ; 
I'm here a pillar in thy temple, 

Strong as a rock, 
A guide, a buckler, an' example 

To a' thy flock, 

O L— d, thou kens what zeal I bear. 
When drinkers drink, and swearers swear, 
And singin there, and dancin here, 
Wi' great an' sma': 
For I am keepit l»y thy fear. 

Free frae tliem a' . 
But yet, O li— d ! confess I must. 
At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust, 
An' sometimes too, wi' warldly trust 

Vile self gets in ! 
But thou remrmbers we are dust, 
Pefii'd in sin. 



Besides, I farther maun allow, 
^Vi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow; 
But, L— d, that Friday I was fou, 

When I came near her, 
Or else, thou kens thy servant true 

Wad ne'er hae sleer'd her 
Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn. 
Beset thy servant e'en and morn. 
Lest ho owre high and proud should turn, 

'Cause he's sae gifted ; 
If pae. tliv linn' tnaun e'en be borne, 

Vn\\] thou lift it j 



78 P0EM5, 

L— d, bless thy chosen in this place, 
For here thou hast a chosen race ; 
But G-d confound their stulthorn face. 

And l)lasi tlioir name, 
Wlia bring thy elders to disgrace, 

An' public shauie. 

L — d, mind G— n H n's deserts, 

He driiilcs, an' swears, an' plays ai cart% 
Yet has sae monie takin arts, 

Wi' grit an' sma', 
Frae G — d's ain priest tlje j)eople's bearta 
He steals awa'. 

An' whan we chastcn'd him therefor, 
Tliou kens how he bred sic a spiore, 
An set the warld in a roar 

O' laughin at us; 
Curse thou his basket and liis store. 

Kail an' potatoes. 

L— d, hear my earnest cry an' pray'r, 
A?»ainst that presbyt'ry o' Ayr; 
Thy strong right liand, L— d, make it bare, 

Upo' their heaiis, 
L— d, weigh it down, and dinna spare, 
For their misdeeds. 

O L — d, my G-d, that gUb-tongu'd A— -HB, 
My very heart an' saul are quakjn, 
To thuik how we stood sweaiin, sliakin, 

An' d— d wi' dread, 
While he, wi' hinsing lips and snakin. 

Held up his head. 

L — d, in the day of vengeance try him, 
L — d, visit them wha did employ him, 
An' pass not in thy mercy by 'em, 

Nor hear their pray'r ; 
But for thy people's sake, destroy 'em, 

AnA dinna spare. 

But, L— d, remember me and mine 
Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine, 
That 1 for gear and grace m ly siiioe, 

Exceird by fianc; 
&a' a' the glory shall be thine, 

Amen, Amen. 



CHIEFL r SCO TTISH. 
EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE. 

IIrre IToly Willie's sair-worn clay 

Takfs vip its last abode ; 
His saiil lias tattn some other way, 

1 fear the left-hand road. 
Btop I there he is as sure'rf a gun, 

Poor silly body, see him ; 
Nae wonder lie's as black's the erun, 

Observe wha's standing \vi' him. 
Your brnnstane devilship, I see, 

Has {.'01 him liiere before ye ; 
But liand your nine-tai! cat a-wee. 

Till ance you've heard my siory. 
Your pity 1 will not implore, 

For [)ity ye liae nane ; 
Justice, alas ! has gien him o'er, 

And mercy's day is gaen. 
But hear me, Sir, Deil as ye are, 

IjQok soMifiliing to your credit: 
A coof like him wad stain your name, 

If it were kent ye did it. 



THE KIRK'S AL^RM.' 



OJtTnoDox, Orthodox, wha believe in .Tohn Knox, j ! 

Let me sound an alarm to your conscience ; I 

Thi-re's a heretic blast has been blawn in the wast, ■ 

That what is no sense must be nonsense. I 

Dr. Mnc,t Hr. Mac, you should stretch on a rack, i ! 

To strike evil doers wi' terror; | 

To join faith and sense tipon onie pretence, I j 

Is heretic, damnable error. j j 

Town of Ayr, Town of Ayr, it was mad, I declare, i i 

To meddle wi' mischief a-brewini;; i 

Provost John is still deaf to tiie church's relief, j 

And orator Bob^ is its ruin. ! j 

ii 

♦ This poem was written a short time after the publication : | 

tfDr.M'O iir s Essay. ! j 

\Dr.M'(HlL X P^ tA—h~iu \\ 



;i PO FOEMS, 

j : D'rj'mple mild,* D'ryinple mild, ilio' your heart'fl like a child, 

{ ; And your life like llie new driven snaw, 

{ ! i'et lliai winna save yc, aiild Satan iimst liae ye, 

! ' For prer.ching tliat llircc's ane and twa. 

i ' Elunilile .ToIin,t Rumble Jolin, mount tlie slops wi' a groan, 

! i Cry the book is wi' lier'.!.<y cramm'd ; 

! j riion lug out your ladle, doal brimstone like adle, 

[ j And roar every nole of the damii'd. 

j j Simper James, J Simper James, leave the fair Killie dames, 
I There's a iiolier chase in your view ; 

1 1 I'll lay on your head, that the pack yo'll soon lead, 
j j For puppies like you there's but few. 

I j alns^et Sawney,^ Singct Sawney, arc ye licvding the penny, 

j I Unconscious what eviis await ? 

I i Wi' a Jump, yol!, and howl, alarm every soul, 

I j For the foul thief is just at your gale." 

I I Daddy Au!d,I| Daddy Auld, there's a tod in the feuld, 
: t A tod moikle waur than the Clerk ; 

I ; riio" ye ran do little skaith, ye' 1 1 be in at the death, 

i I An' gif ye cauna bite, yc may bark. 

j j Davie Bluster,!! Davie Bluster, if for a saint ye do muster, 

j I . The corps is no nice of recruits ; 

I i Yet to worth let's hi> just, royal blond ye might boost, 

! j If tlie ass was the king of the brutes. 

i [ Jamy Goosn,** Jamy Goose, ye hae made but toom roose 
j : In huati'ig the wicked lieutenant; 

• But tlie Doctor's your mark, for the L— d's haly ark, 
I lie has coopw'd, and caw'd a wrang pin iu't. 

I Poet Willie, tt I*oct Willie, gie tlie doctor a volley, 

Wi' your liberty's chain and your wit; 
^ O'er Pegasus' sidb ye ne'er laid astride, 

Ye but smelt, man, the place where he sh-t. 

Andro Gouk,it Andro Gouk, ye may slander the book, 
And tlie bonk not the waur, let me tell ye! 

Ye are rich, and look bi<r, but lay by ha' aiul wig, 
And ye'll hae a calf's head o' sma' value. 

* Mr. l)—m~l... t Mr. Ii-s.^-ll. i JJ/r.JI/'iST— y. 

$ Mr. M y... II Mr. .i—L If Mr. O 1 

I pfO-l-e. ' ** ,^rr. Y-iT of C-?i~lc. ^^ Mr, 

P—b—ao/A-r. ilDr.Ji.M-li. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 81 

Barr Steenie,* Barr Steenie, what niran ye ! what mean ye ! j 1 

If ye'li meddle nae mair vvi' tlie matter, 1 1 

Ye may liae .some pretence to liavins aiid sense, I 

Wi' people wlia ken ye nae better. 1 1 

Irvine Side,! Irvine Side, vvi' yonr turkey-cock pride, I j 

Of mrinliood but sma' is your share ; l 

Ye've tJie tiL'ure, 'tis true, even your faeg will allow, j [ 

And your friends tliey dare grant ye nae mair. 1 1 

AIiiirlaiul.Iock.tMuirlnnd Jock, when the L—d makes a rock 

To crush Conunoii Sense for her sins, ' | 

If ill manners were wit, there's no mortal so fit j I 

To crjtifourid the poor doctor at once. i 

Holy \Vil!,<5 Holy Will, there was wit i' your skull ! 

When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor ; j j 

TJie linmier is scant, w^-fu ye"re tacn for a saint, 

Wha should swing in a rape for an hour. 
Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons, p<;i7,e your sp'ritual guns, 

Ammuniiion you never can need ; 
Your hearts are the stuff; will he powther enough, 

And ycur skulls are store-houses o' Itiad. 
PcK-t Hums, Poet Hurns, wi' your priest-skelping turns, j } 

Why desert ye your a(»lil native shire? 
Your muse is a {lipsie, e'en tho' she were tipsie, 

8lie could ca' us nae waur than we arc. 



LETTER TO JOHJ\r GOUDIE, KlLJ\URXOCK, 

ON TEK PUDLICATION OF HIS ESSAYS. 

O CovniE ! terror o' t)ie whips, i 

Dread o' hiack Cf):it3 and rev'rtiid wigs, j 

Soor higotry, on her Inst leir;-, 

Giriiin looks back, 
VVlsliing the ten Fgyptian plapires 

Wtid seize you quick. 

Poo! papin, plowrin Puprrstitinn, 
Waes me, she's i?i a sad CDndiiion ; 
Fly, brim; JJyack-.Iock, her slate |)liysician, i 

'J'o see her w-ter ; 
AIes 1 tliere's pronnd o' ureal suspicion I 

I'ihe'll ne'er get better. 

• 8 n r-g cf B—r. t Mr. S h of 0-« 



11. 



FOEMS, 

Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple, 
But now she's got an unco ripjile, 
Haste, gie her name up i' ilie chapel 

Nigh unto death ; 
See how she fetches at the thrapple, 

An' gasps for hrealli. 
Enthusiasm's past redemption, 
Gaen in a galloping consumption, 
Not a' the quacks wi' a' iheir gumption, 

Will ever mend lier, 
Her feeble pulse gies strong i)resumption, 

Death soon will end her. 
'Tis you and Taylor* are the chief, 
Wha are to blame for this misdiief ; 
But gin the Lord's ain focks gat leave, 

A toom tar-barreJ 
An' twa red peats wad send relief, 

An' end the quarrel. 



^ DEDICATIOK TO OAVIX HAMILTOX, J2S^ 



■ Expect na, Sir, in this narration, 

I A lleeching, fleth'rin dedication, 

|i To rouse you up, an' ca' ydu guid, 

I i An sprung o' great an' noble blu\ I, 

' j Because ye're surnam'd like his grace, 

■ i Perhaps related to the race ; 

i ! Then when I'm tir'd— and sae are ye, 

; Wi' mony a fulsome sinfu' lie, 

! Set up a face, how I stop short, 

i For fear your modesty be hurt. 

I This may do— maun do. Sir, wi' them wha 
j Maun please the great folk for a wamel'oH ; 

! i For me! sae laigh [ needna bow, 

j For, Lord be thankit, I can plough ; 

I I And when I dowria yoke a naig, 

; j Then, L— d be thankit, lean beg; 

i j Sae 1 shall say, an' that's nae flatt'rin, 

i j It's just sic Poet, an' sic Patron. 

\ ! The Poet, some guid angel help him, 

; I Or else, I fear some ill ane skelp him, 

i ! He may do weel for a' he's done yet, 

i • But only he's no just begun yet. 



* Dr. Taylor of J^orwich, 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH 83 

The Palron, (Sir, ye mrmn forgie me, 
I wimia lie, coiiie wliai will o' nie,) 
On tv'ry liaml ii will allovv'd be, 
lie's jusl nae better than lie sliould be. 

I readily and freely frrant, 
lie downa see a jioor man want : 
What's no his ain lie winna tak it, 
Wlial ance he says he winna break it, 
Oiiiiht he can lend he'll no refus't, 
Till aft his gotidness is abus'd : 
And rascals whyles that do him wrang, 
Ev'n that, he does not mind it lang : 
As master, landlord, hns'-aml, taiher 
He does na fail his part in either. 

But then, nae (hanks to him for a' thai 
Nae iroflly symptom ye can ca' that , 
U's napthii!<: but a milder I'eatnre, 
Of our [xMir. sinfu', corrupt nature • | 

Ye'll gi.'t the l)t'!-i o' moral works, 

'Man}; black Ccnioos and pagan TurKa j 

Or Imnters wild on Pvnotnxi, 
Wha never heard of orthodoxy: 
That lie's the poor man's friend in need, 
T\Hi ffevtleman in word and deed, 
It's no thro' terror of il-mnalion : j 

It'6 just a carnal inclination. ! 

Morality ! thou deadly bane. 
Thy tens o' thousands ihon hast siain ! 
Vain is his hojie, whose stay Jind trust ia 
In moral mercy, truth, and justice ! 

No — stretch a point to catch a plack ; 
Abnso a brother to his back ; 
Steal thro' a wimiock frae a wl!-re. 
But fioint tn the rake that takes the door: 
Be to the jioor like oi;ie whnnstane, 
And hand their noses to the grunstane ; 
Ply every art o' legal thieving ; 
No matter, stick to sound believing. 

Learn three-mile prayers, and half mile graces, 
Wl' wcelspread looves, an' lang wry faces; 
GruHt up a solium. Icniithfii'd groan, 
And damn a' panics but yonr own : 
I'll warraiit then, ye're nae deceiver, 
A Ready, sturdy, staunch believer. 



81 POLMS, 

O ye wha leave the springs of Ofo-«, 
For gumlie duds of your ain delvin ! 
Ye sons of lieresy and error, 
Ye' II some dp.y squeel in quakin terror! 
When Vengeance draws ilie sword in wrath, 
And in the fire throws the sheath ; 
When Ruin, with h;s sweeping besom, 
Just frets till heav'n commission gies him ; 
Wliile o'er the harp pale niis'ry moans, 
And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones. 
Still louder shrieks, and lieavier groans ! 

I i Your pardon, Sir, for tliis digiession, 
I I maist forgat my Dedication ! 

j But when Divinity comes cross me, 

i My readers still are sure to lose n)e. 

i 

j j So, Sir, ye see 'twas nae daft vapour, 

j I But I maturely thought it proper, 

! I When a' my works I did review, 

I I To dedicate them, Sir, to ynu : 
I ; Because (ye need na tak it ill) 

; 1 I thought them something like yoursel. 

Then pafrornse them wi' your favour. 
And your petitioner shall ever — 
I had amaist said, ever pra^, 
But that's a word I need na say; 
For prayin I Jiae little jkill o't ; 
I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't; 
But I'se repeat each poor mail's prayW, 
That kens or hears about you. Sir : — 

" May ne'er misfortune's growling bark, 
Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk! 
May ne'er his gen'rous, hoTiest heart, 
T'or that same cren'rous spirit smart ! 

May K 's far lionour'd name 

liatig beet his hymeneal flame, 

Till H s, at least a dizen. 

Are fiae their nuptial labours risen; 
Five bnnie lasses round their table 
And seven braw fellows, stoiu an' able 
To serve their king and country weel, 
By word, or pen, or pointed steel I 
ISfay health and peace, with nuitual rays, 
Shine on the eveninjr o' his daya ; 
Till his wee curlie John's ier-oe. 
When ebbina life nae mair shall flow, 
The last, sad, mournful rites bestow !" 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 83 

I will not wind a lang conclusion, 
Wi' complimerilary effusion : 
But tt'liilst your wishes and endeavoure 
Are blest wi' Fonune's smiles and favours, 
I am, dear Sir, wiili zeal most fervent, 
Your umch indebted liunible servant. 

But if (which powers above prevent !) 
That iron-hearted carl, IVant, 
Attended in his grim advances. 
By sad mistakes and black mischances, 
\Vhile hopes and joys and pleasures fly him, 
Make you as poor a dog as 1 am, 
Your humble servant llien no more ; i 1 

For who would humbly serve the poor ? ! 

But by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n ! i 

While recollection's pow'r is given, ! 

If, in the vale of humble life, ' ■' 

Tlie victim sad of Fortune's strife, \ 

I, Ihro' the tentler gushing tear, ' '■ \ 

Should lecognise my master dear, \ \ 

If friendless, low, we meet Ujgether, 1 1 

Tiien, Sir, your Ivdiid— my Jricnd and brother. 1 1 



ADDRESSED TO iMU. JOHN RANKEN. 

Ae day as death, that groi:some carl. 
Was driving to the tilher warl' 
A niixtie-niaxtie moily squad, 
And nionic a gnili-l)eppoti( d lad ; 
Black gowns of each denomination, 
And thieves of every rank and station. 
From him that wears the star and garter, 
To him that wintles in a halter; 
Asham'd himself to see the wretches. 
He mutters, glow' ring at the b — es, 
" Ay G — , I'll not be seen behint them, 
Nor 'inang the sp'ritual corps present them, 
Without, at least, ae honest man. 
To grace this damn'd infernal clan." 
By Adamhill a glanc(> he threw, 
•' L— d G— dl" quoth he, " 1 have it now 
Tkere's just the man I want, in faith." 
Aad quickly stopped Kanken's breath. 



» POEMS, 

LINES 

WRITTEN BY BURNS, WHILE ON IIXS DEATH-BED, TO TM 

SAME. 

He who ofR— k— n sang, lies stift'and «lpad. 
And a ^'/oeii grassy hillock liuies liia head ; 
Alas I a;as ! a devilish cliange indeed ! 



EXTEMPORE. 

ON THE LATE KR. WILLIAM SMELLIE. 

To Crocliallan came* 
The old cock'd hat, the gray siirtoiil, the same ; 
His bristling beard just rising in its might, 
'Twas four long nights and davs to siiaving-nighl; 
His uncomb'd grizzly locks wild staring, ihr.tch"d 
A hwad for thought prfifound and clear, unuiaich'd; 
Yet, the' Ills caustic wit was biting, rude, 
His heart was waiin, benevolent, and good. 



I : EXTEMPORE. 

il 

A At a meeting of the Dumfriesshire Volunteers, held to com- 

I memornte the anniversary of Rodney's victory, JlpriL I'.'fA, 

! I 1782, Burns wa'f called upon for a sono-, instead of tohtck 

j ! he delivered the following lines extempore : 

jl " Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast, 



Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost: 

[ I That we lost, did I say, nay, by Heav'n, tf it we found, 

i I For their fame it shall last while the world goes round. 

' The next in succession, I'll give you the king, 

I . Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing ; 

j ! And here's the grand fabric, our free constitutioii, 

I As built on the base of the great revolution ; 
i I And, longer with politics not to be cramm'd, 

I I Be anarchy curs'd, and be tyranny damii'd ; 

1 1 And who woukl to liberty e'er prove disloyal, 

j I May his son be a hangman, and he the first uial. 

I * Mr. Smellie and Burns were both mcmbtrs of a elub in 

1 1 Edinburgh, called the Crochallan Fencibles 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 87 

TO MR. S**E, 

«ll BIFtTBTNO TO DINE WITH HIM, AFTER HAVING BZKM 
FROM IS KD THE FIRST OF COMPANY AND THE FIRST 
COUKKRY. 

No more of your gnesfs, be ihey titled or not, 

Aiul cook'ry the tiist in the nation ; 
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit, 
Is proof to all other temptation. 
Duember J7, 1795. 



TO MR. S**E, 

WITH A PRESENT OF A DOZEN OF PORTER. 

O HAD the malt thy strength of mind, 
Or hojis the flavour of thy wit ; 

'Twere drink for first of human kind, 
A Rift that e'en for S**n were fit, 
Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries. 



EXT E .MP ORE. 

WaVfTtV IN ANSWER TO A CARD FROM AN INTIMAT* 01 
burns', INVITING UIM TO SPEND AN HOUR AT A TAVERN. 

The kiiiji's most humble servant, I 

Can scarcely spare a nunute ; 
But I'll be wi' ye by an' by, 

Of else llie Deil's be in it. 



EXTEMPORE. 

WRITTEN IN A lady's POCKET BOOK. 

CIrant me. indulecnt Heav'n, that I may live 
To aee the nilscreants feel the pains they give ; 
\)t»\ Freedom's sacred treasures free as air, 
lIU ilRve R.->d despot be but tbiogs wliicii wen^ 



8B POEMS, 

\ LINES 

I ON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AYR. 

I Oh ! had cacli Scot of ancient tlmM^ 

I Been, Jeany Scoit, as ihou art, 

I The bravest heart on En.^lisli ground, 

I Had yielded like a coward. 



LIJSTES, 

OM BKINO ASKED WHT OOD HAD MADE MISS DAVIS 80 UTTUf 

AND MISS SO LAROK. 

Written on a Pane of Glass in the inn at Moffat, 

Ask why God made the pern so small, 

An' why so huge the granite ! 
Because God meant mankiiid should set 

The higher value on it. 



LTJN-ES 

WBZTTEM UNDER THE PICTURE OP THE CSLEBRATXD ! 

BURNS. 

Cease, ye prudes, your envious railing 
Lovely Burns has ciiarins — confcaa; 

True it is, she had one faihng, 
Had a woman ever less? 



LIJ^ES 

VnUTTEN AND PRESENTED TO MRS. KEMBLE, CM 81X1X0 1 
IN THE CHARACTER OF TaRICO. 

Kemble, thou cur'st my unbelief 

Of Moses and his rod ; 
'^t Yarico's sweet notes of grief, 

Tlie rock with tears had fiow'd 



Dumfries Theatre, 1794. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH 83 

LINES 

imiTTKN ON WINDOWS OF THE GLOBE TAVERN, DUMFRIES. 

The grayheard, old Wisdom, may boasi of his treasures, 

Give me with cay Folly to live; 
I grant liiru hia calm-bloodL'd, time-settled pleasures, 

But Folly has raptures to give. 



In politics if thou would'st nibt. 
And mean lliy fort*.mes be ; 

Bear this in mind, be deaf and blind, 
Let great folks bear and see. 



LIJ^ES 



I murder hate by field or flood, I 

Tho' glory's name may screen us ; j 

In wars at hame I'll spend my blood, { 

Life-giving war of Venus. i 

The deities that I adore, j 

Are social Peace and Plenty. ' 

I'm better pleased to make one more, \ 

Than be the death of twenty. j 



My bottle is my holy pool, 

That heals the wounds o' care and dool; 

And pleasure is a wanton trout, 

An' ye drink it, y'll find him out. 



WRITTEN ON A WINDOW, AT THE EINO's ARMS TAVERN, 
DUMFRIES. 

Ye men of wit and wealth, wi' a' this sneering 
'Gainst poor Exxisemen, give the cause a hearing: 
What are your landlord's rent-rolls? taxing legers: 
What premiers, wh&f? even Monarch's mighty gaugerfl i 
Nay, what are priests? those seeming godly wise men : 
What are they, pray? but spiritual Excicemen. 
Vol. it. G i 



90 POEJUSy 



Presenteaby the author, to theviaster of ahousc,at aplacein 
the Uigldaiids, where he had been honpitablij entertained* 



,'! A VERSE, 

1 1 

I! 

j; 

j i When Death's dark stroain I ferry o'er, 

; I A time lliat surely sliall come : 

i ■ In Iltaveii itself, I'll ask no more, 

1 1 Than just a iligliiuud welcome. 



EPIGRAM 

[Biiriis accompanied by a friend, having gone to Inverary 
at a time when some company were there on a visit to the 
Duke of Jirgyll, jindinir himself and his companion entire- 
ly neglected by the innkeeper, whose whole attention seemed 
t«> be occupied with the visiters of his Grace, expressed hit 
d(sa.ppn:i2tion of the incivility with which they were treat' 
ed in the following lines.] 

Whoe'er he be that sojomns here, 

I pity much his case, 
Unless lie comes to wait uiton 

The Lord their God his Grace. 
Tiiere's naetiiiisg here but ilighl.ind prfdo. 

And Highland scab and Imnjjer; 
If Providence lias sent me here, 

'Twas surely in an anger. 



EPIGRAM 
On Elphinstone' s translation of MartiaVs Epigram^', 
O Tiiou whom Poetry abhors, 
Whom Prose has turn'd out of doors, 
Ileanl'st thou that firoan? — proceed no further, 
'Twas iaurell'd Martial roariu" murder. 



VERSES, 

Written on a window of the inn at CarroTlf 

We cam na liere to view your works 

In hopes to be mair wise. 

But only lest we gang to hell, 

It may be nae surprise : 



CHIEF L Y SCOTTISH. 

But when we tirl'd at your door, 
Your porter dought na hear us ; 

Bae may, should we to hell's yetts come, 
Your billy Satan sair us ! 



EPITAPH 
On a celebrated ruling Elder. 

Here souter **** in death does sleep; 

To h-ll, if he's gane thither, 
8atan, gie him thy gear to keep, 

He'll haud it wee I thegither. 



OJV .1 ^OISY POLEMIC. 

Bblow thir stanes lie Jamie's banes: 

O Death, it's my opinion, 
Thou ne'er took such a blethrin b-tch, 

Into thy dark dominion ! 



ON WEE JOHNNY. 

Hicjacet wee Johnnie. 

Whoe'kr thou art, O reader, know, 
That Dei^th has murder'd Johnny ! 

An' here his hody lies fu' low — 
For «aui he ne'er had ony. 



FOR O. H. ESQf 

Th* poor man weeps— here i 
Whom canting wretches blam'd : 

But with such as he, where'er be be, 
May I be aav'd or damn'd I 



1 ! 92 POEMS 



ON A WAG IN MAUCIILINB. 

Lament him, Mauchline husbands a'l 

He afteii did a.ssist ye: 
For liad ye staid whole weeks ava', 
Your wives they ne'er had iiiis:j'd yo. 

Ye Mauciiline bairns, as on ye pass 
To school in bands thegither, 

O trt'ad ye lightly on the grass, 
Perhaps he was your father. 



ON jorm DOVE, 

Innkeeper, Jilauchline. 

Here lies Johnny PidgeoD, 

What was his religion, 

Whae'er desires to ken. 

To some other warl 

Mann follow tiie carl, 

For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane. 

Strong ale was ablution, 
Small beer persecutfon, 
A (iratn was vieviaito mori; 
But a full flowing bowl 
Was the saving liis soul. 
And port was celestial glory 



OJV JVJILTER S . 

Sin a reptile was Wat, 

Sic a miscreant slave, 
That the worms ev'n d d hlni| 

When laid in his grave. 

•• In his flesh there's a famine," 

A starv'd reptile cries ; 
* And his heart is rank poison," 

Another replies. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 93 

ON A HENPECKED COUNTRY SQUIRE. 

Ab father Adam first was fool'd, 

A case that's still too common, 
Here lies a man a woman rul'd, 

The Devil rul'd the woman. 



EPIGRAM OJV SAID OCCASIOJ^. 

O DEATH, had'st thou but spar'd his life, 
Whom we this day lament ! 

We freely wad exchang'd the leifc, 
And a' been weel content. 

Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff. 

The swap we yet will do't ; 
Tak thou the Carlin's carcass aff, 

Tiiou'se get the saul o' boot 



AJ^OTHER. ! 

One Queen Artemisa, as old stories tell, I 

When deprived of her hu.«l)and she loved so well, i 

In re.spcct for the love and affection he'd shown her, 

Bhe rfduc'd him to dust, and she drank up the powdor i 

But Queen n*******^ of a different complexion, 

When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction, 

Would have cat her dead lord, on a slender pretence, 

Not to show her respect, l>ut— tosare the expense. 



Olf THE DEATH OF A LAP DOG J^AMED ECHO 

In wood and wild, ye warbling throng, 

Your heavy loss deplore ; 
Now half-e.\tinct your powers of song, 

Sweet Echo is no more. 

Ye jarring, screeching things around, 

Scream your discordant joys ; 
Now half your din of tuneless sound 

With Echo silent lies. 



94 POEMS, 

IMPROJIPTU ON MRS. 'a BIRTH-DAY, 

VJi JVovcjubcr, 1193. 

Old Winter witli his frosty beard, 
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferr'd: 
What have I done, of all the year, 
To bear this liated doom severe 1 
My cheerless sons no pleasur.^ know; 
.\'ights horrid car drags dreary, slow ; 
My dismal months iio joys ate crowning, 
!;:il spleeny Englisli, hanging, drowning. 

Now, Jove, for once be mighty civil, 
To counterbalance all this evil ; 
Give me, and I've no more to say, 
Give me Maria's natal day ! 
That l»rilliant gift will so enrich me, 
Spring, Summer, Autunm, cannot match me. 
'Tis (Ir.nc, says Jove ;— so ends my slory, 
And Wiiiter once rejoic'd m glory. 



I MONODY 

I On a Lad?/ famed for her caprice. 

• How cold is that bosom whicli folly once flr'd ! 

I How pale is that check where tlie muge lately glisteil'd I 

j How silent that tongue which the echoes oft Ur'd ! 

i How dull is that ear which to flattery so Usten'd ! 

j If Forrow and anguish their exit await, 

; From friendship and dearest atTection removed; 

How doubly severer, Eli/.a, thy fate, 
i Thou diedst unwept, as tliou lived'st unlov'd. 

I Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you ; 
j So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear; 

I But coine, all ye ofl'spring of Folly so true, 
j And flowers let us cull for Eliza's cold bier. 

j We'll search thro' the garden for each silly flower, 
j We'll roan thro' the forest for each idle weed; 

! But chiefly the nettle, so tynical, shower, 
! For none e'er ap, "oach'd her hut rued f'le rash deed. 

j We'll sculpture the m..rble , we'll measure Ihe lay, 
i Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre ; 

! Tliere keen Indignation sliall dart on her prey, 
j Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from her Il% 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH SB 1 



THE EPITAPH. 



Here JiCs, r"iw a prey to inpiiliing npglpct, 
Wliai once was a '.y::*'"iflv, pay in life's beam j 

Wniu only of wisdom deuii.'d tiei ;c=;'»'Cl, 
Want only of goodness denied her esteem 



ODE, 

Sacred to the memory of Mrs. of- 

PwKiiLER in yon dimseon dark, 
Hangman of creation : niark 
Who in widow-weeds appears, 
Laden wilh indioiKjnr'd yi'ars, 
Noosiim with care a bursting purse, 
Baited with many a deadly curse ! * 

STROPHE. 

View the withered beldam's face- j | 

Can ihy keen inspection trace i 

Aught of humanity's sweet molting grace 1 i i 

Note that eye, 'tis rheum o'erliows, j. 

Pity's flood tlierc never rose. I j 

Fee ihose liands, ne'er strelch'd to save, j \ 

Hands iha! took — but never gave. ! 

Keeper of Mammon's iron chest, j 1 

liO : there slie goes, nnpilir-d and unblest ! j | 

She goes, but not to realms of everlasting rest ! i j 

ANTISTROPHE. 1 1 

Plunderfr of armies, lift thine ej'cs, ' j 

(Awhile forbear, ye tott'ring fiends.) i j 

S'.e^t thou whose step unwilling hither bends 1 ; i 

Wo fallen angel, huri'd from upper skies; 
'Tis thy trusty qnonilam Jiiate, 
Doom'd to .share thy fiery fate, 
She, tardy, hell-ward plies. 



EPODE. 



And are they of no more avail, 1 

Ten thousand gtitierinii pounds a-yearl j 

In otlicr worlds can Mammon fail, i 

Omnipoteul as he i.s here? i 



&6 POEMS, 

O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier, 
While down the vvreiclud vital part is driv*n! 
The cave-!odg'd begsar, witli a conscience clear. 
Expires in tags, unknown, and goes to heav'n. 



Ij THE HEJVPECKED HUSB^J^D. 

i I 

j ! Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life, 

i T he crouching vassal to the tyrant wife, 

1 1 Who has no will hut by her iiigh permission; 

1 1 Who has not sixpence but in her possession : 

j j Who must to her his dear friend's secret teii ; 

j I Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell. 

j Were such the wife had fallen to my part, 

I I'd break her spiiit, or I'd break her heart ; 
! , I'd charm her with the magic of a switch, 

I I I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b — b* 



ELEGY OJ\r THE YEJIR 1788. 

For lords or kings I dinna mourn, 
E'en let them die — for that they're bom ! 
But, oh ! prodigious to reflect, 
A Toicmont, Sirs, is gaiie to wreck I 
O Eighty-eight, in thy sma' si)ace 
What dire events hae taken place ! 
Of what enjoyment thou hast reft us ! 
In what a pickle thou hast left us ! 

The Spanish empire's tint a head. 
An' my auld teethless Bawtie's dead; 
The toolzie's teusrh 'tween Pitt and F-rx, 
An' our gudewife's wee birdy cocks ; 
The ane is game, a bluidy devil. 
But to the hen-birds unco civil ; 
The tither's dour, has nae sic breedin. 
But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden ! 

Ye ministers, come mount the pulpit, 
An' cry till ye be hearse an" rupit ; 
For Eighty eight, he wish'd you weel, 
An^ gied you a' baiih gear an' meal: 
E'en monie a plack, an' monie a peck, 
Ye ken yoursels for hale feck ! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH 97 ! 

Yc bonie lasses dight your eon. 
For some o' you Iiae lint a frien' ; 
In Eifrlity- eight, sae ken, was la'en 
What ye'll ne'er liae to gie again. 

Observe Ibe very nowt an' slieep, 
IIow dowffan' do'wie now they creeij; 
Nay, ev'n the yiith itsel does cry, 
For Enibro' wells are grutten dry 

O Eiirhtyvivc, thou's but a bairn, 
An' no owre aiild, I Jiope, to learn ! ' 
Thou beardless boy, I jiray tak care. 
Thou now has cnt tliy daiUly's chair, 
Nae hand-cnffd, niiizzi'd, half-shackl'd recent 
Put, like liiniself, a full, free agent | i 

Be sure ye follow out the plan i 

Nae waur tiiari he did, Jionest man ! ! 



As niuckle betle 
January 1, 1789. 



r as you can. I | 



TAIM SAMSON'S* ELEGY. 
JJn honest man's the noblest work of God. 

Has aul(I K seen rlie Deil ? 

Or great M f thrawu his heel 1 

Or R 1 again irrown \\eol. 

To proarii an' read ? 
" Na, waur tlian a' !" cries ilka chiel, 

Tani Samson's dead • 



Tops j 

I 



Wken this worthy old Sportsman wrvt out last muirfowl I 

tcason, he supposed it was to be, in Ossinv's r/ir'ase, " the last i i 

ef his fields;'' and expressed an ardnit wish to die and he I i 

buptd in the mvirs. On this hint the author composed his i I 

JLUg^y and Fpitaph. \ 

t yJ certntn preacher, a ffrtat favourite icith the viillion I 

J tdt the Ordivatiov, stavza II. ' i 

t Another preai her, an equal faroiirite with the few, who i 

WOM at that time ailing. For him, se: also the Ordination. '• ! 

stania IX. 1 i 

!i 



B8 POEjMS, 



liing may grunl an' pranc, 



I An' sigh, an' sab, an' creel licr lane, 

I An' deed her bairns, man, wile, ao' U'eaOf 

! In nionrnini; weed ; 

j To deatli she's dearly paid the kanc, 

i Tani Samson's dead I 

j The brethren of tlie mystic level, 

i ; May hiiig their head in wofn' bevel, 

I j Wliile by the nose the tears will revel, 

I j Like onie bead ; 

I I Death's gien the lodge an unco devcl ; 
j j Tarn Samson's dead ! 

I! 

j j When winter mnfl'es up his cloak, 

j j And binds the mire np like a rork ; 

i j When to the loniilis the curlers f1i»ck, 

! i Wi' <;leesomP speed, 

I i Wha will they station at the rock? 

I Tatn Samson's dead ! 

I i He was the king o' a' the core, 

i j To guard, or draw, or wick a bore, 

I j Or up the rink like Jehu roar 

i j In time of need ; 

i j But now he lass on death's ho/r-seore, 

! i Tarn Samson's dead ! 

! 

• j Now safe the stately sawmont sail, 

, j And tronts bedrojiyi'd wi' crinis<ni hail, 

I ! And eels well krnn'd for soiiple tail, 

i And ceds for greed, 

■j ; Sine dark in rieatli's^s/t-rrcc? we wail, 

i ! Tarn Samson's dead ' 
l\ 

t Kejoice ye biiring paitricks a' ; 

j j Ye contie nniircocks, cronsely craw ; 
Ye maukins, rock your fiid l^u' braw, 

I VVithouten dread ; 

j j Your mortal fae is now awa', 

1 ' Tam Samson's dead 1 

j ' That wofu' njorn lie ever mourn'd, 
Saw him in shootin graiih adnrn'd, 
WJiile pointers routid inipaiient burn'd, 

Frae coui>!(s freed ; 
But, och ! he caed, and ne'er return'd j 

Tam Samson's dead ! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH 99 ji 

In vain auld age liis body hatters , j 

In vain llie t'ou *iis ancles fetters ! ' i 
In vain the hurn cnjiic <i(!\vu like waters 

An I z\e. l)rai(l .' ! 

Now every anid wife, L'loetin, clatters, | j 

Tain Samson's dead ! j ; 

Owre many a weary Iiair lie linipit, j i 

Am ay the tiilier slioi lie tlninipif, ! ; 

Till coward death hehind him jumpit, 1 1 

\Vi' deadly leide ; ! [ 

Now lie proclaims, wi' tout o' trumpet, ' i 

'i'am Samson's dead 1 I \ 

Wlien at his heart he felt the dapc;er, j I 

Fie reel'd Ins woined hntlloswa}.'}5ei~, j i 

Lut yet liedtew the mortal tri;.'f;(;r i ! 

Wi' weel-aim'd deed ; i ' 

" L— d, five !" lie cry'd, an' owre did stagger ; | ; 

Taai Samson's dead ! | ; 

Ilk hoary hnri'er nnjnrn'd a Iirither ; , I 

Ilk s;t(in>innn yonlh bemoan'd a father; j ' 

Yon auld gray stane, anian-; t!)e heather, j I 

Marks out his head, I i 

■Wharo Burns has wioie, in rhyming blether, | : 

Tarn Samson'' s dead ! \ I 

There l"w he lies, in lasting? rest ; { | 

Terhaps \,,)on liis iroulti'rimr breast j ! 

Some spitefu' innirfowl bisis her lu'st, ! ; 

■"i'o hatcii an' breed ; j ] 

Alas ! nae rnair he'.; them molest ! | ; 

Tarn Samson's dead ; 

When AiiLMisi winds the heaihir wave, 
Ami Hj,<irlsnieii wander by yon irrave. 
Three voUeys let his inem'ry crave 

O' jKjiiilier an' loaJ, 
Till echo answer frae her cave, 

Tain Samson's dead ! 

Heav'n rest his sauI wl.ero'c r l;e b:- » 
tfl the wish o' moi-ie inae than me; 
He had iwa faults, or ii:ay be three, 

Vet uhal leinead? 
Aesoc'iil lioni'st man waul we; 

Tain SaniL-on's dead I 



100 POEMS, 



THE EPITAPH. 

Tarn Samson's weel-born clay here lies, 
Ye canting zealots spare liiin ! 

If honest worth in lieavcn rise, 
Ye'll mend or ye win near him. 

PER CONTRA. 

Go, Fame, and canter like a filly 
Thro' a' the streets an' neiiks o' Killie,* 
Toll ev'ry social, honest billie 

To cease his grievin, 
For yet, unskaiih'd by death's gleg gullie 

Tam Samson^s livin. 



ELEGY OJV CJIPT. MATTHEW HEJTDERSOXt 

A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOR HIS BOMOCR 
IMMEDIATELY FROM ALMIGHTY GOD. 

But now his radiant course is run, 
For Matthcio's course was briffht; 

I j His soul was like the glorious sun, 

I I A matchless, heavenly light I 

j O Death ! thou tyrant fell and bloody ! 

! The muckle devil wi' a woodie 

I ; Haurl thee hame to his jlack smiddie, 

j O'er hurcheon hides, 

I And like stock-fi?h come o'er his studdle 

Wi' thy an Id sides! 

i He's gane, he's gane ! he's frae us torn, 

I The ae best fellow e'er was born ! 

I Thee, Matthew, Nature's sel shall inoiim 

I i By wood and wild, 

I Where, haply. Pity strays forlorn, 

! I Frae man exil'd. 

I ! Ye hills, near ncebors o' the starns, 

i That proudly cork your cresting cairns ! 

j Ye cliffs, the hatmts of sailing yearns, 

I Where Echo slm:ilH:rs ! 

j Come, join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns, 

i j My wailing numbers : 

I j * Kilmarnock. 



LL_z:.-. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 10] i 

Mourn Ilka grove the cusliat kens ! 
Ye haz'lly sliaws and briery drns ! 
Yc burnies, wiinpliii down your giens, 

Wi- toddliii dill, 
Or foaming Strang, vvi' liasiy stens, 
Frae lin to lin. 

Mourn, little harebells o'er the lee ; I 

Ye stately foxgloves fair to see ; i | 

Ye woodbines hanging boniiie, i 

In scented bow'rg ; ' 

Ye roses on your thorny tree, i 

The first o' flow'rs. { 

At dawn, when ev'ry grassy blade > * 

Droojis wiih a diamond at iiis head, I I 

At ev'n, whon beans their fragrance shed ■ j 

r the rustling gale, ! l 

Ye maukins whiddin thro' the glade, i | 

Come, join my wail. ji 

Mourn, ye wee songsters o' the v/ood ; j j 

Ye grouse tliat ciap the heather bud ; i \ 

Ye curlews calling thro' a cind ; j ■ 

Ye wiiisiling plover; j 
And mourn, ye whirring paiirick brood ; 

He's gane for ever ! ■ 

Mourn, sooty coots, and speckled teals, ; 

Ye fisher herons, watching eels ; i 

Ye duck and drake, wi' airy wheels I i 

Circling il;e lake; jl 

Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels, I j 

Rair for his sake ! i | 

Mourn, clam'ring craiks at close o' day | 

'Mang fields o' liow'ring clover gay ; I j 

And when ye wing your annual way { ; 

Ftae our cauld shore, 1 1 

Tell Ihae far warlds, wlia lies in clay, 

Wham we deplore. 

Ye houlets, frae your ivy how'r, 
In soniH aiild tree, or eldritch low'r. 
What time the moon, wi' silent glow'J, 

Sets up her horn, 
Wail thro' the dreary midnighi hour, 

Till waukiife morn ! 



lOi POEMS, 

O rivets, *ests, hills and plains ! 
Oft liave ye heard my canty strain*: 
But now, what else for me remains 

But tales of wo; 
And frae my een the drapping rains 

I^laun ever flow. 

Mourn, Spring, thou darling of ths year, 
Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear ; 
Tliou, Simmer, while each corny spvJJ 

Shoots up its head, 
Thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses shear, 

For him that's dead ! 

Thou, Autumn, wi' thy yellow hair, 
In grief thy sallow mantle teai ! 
Thou, Winter, hurling thro' the air 

The roaring blast, 
Wide o'er the naked world declare 

The worth we've lost! 

Mourn him, thou sun, great source of light! 
Mourn, empress of the silent night ! 
And you, ye twinkling slurries bright, 

My Matthew mourn : 
For through your orbs lie's taen his flight, 
Ne'er to return. 

O Henderson ! the man ! the brother ! 
I And art thou gone, and gone for ever 1 

i And hast thou cross'd that unknown river, 

j Life's dreary bound 1 

j Like thee, where shall I find another, 

; The warld around ! 

I Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye great, 

! In a' the tinsel trash o' state ! 

i But by thy lioncst turf I'll wait, 

j Thou man of worth ! 

[ And weep the ae best (el low's fate 

i E'er lay in earth. 

I THE EPITAPIL 

I Plop, passenger, my story's brief; 

i And truth [ shall relate, man; 

i . I tell na common tale o' grief, 

For Matthrw was a great maiL 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH, IW 

If thou uncommon merit hast, 

Yet spurn'd at Fortune's door, man ; 
A look of pity hither cast, 

For Mattliew was a poor man. 

If thou a nobler sodger art. 

That passest by tliis grave, man, 
There moulders here a gallant heart, 

For Matthew was a brave man. 

If thou on men, tlieir works and ways, 

Canst tlirow uncommon light, man ; 
Here lies wlia weel had won thy praise, 

For Matthew was a bright man. 

If thou at friendship's sacred ca' 

Wad life itself resign, man ; 
Thy sympathetic tear maun fa', 

For Matthew was a kind man I 

If thou art staunch, without a stain, 

Like the unchanging blue, man : i j 

This was a kinsman o' thy ein, { \ 

For Matthew was a true man. ! \ 

i 

If thou hast wit, and fun, and fire, j 

And ne'er guid wine did fear, man ; i 

This was thy billie, dam and sire, j 

For Matthew was a queer man. ! 

If onie wliiggish, whingle sot, j I 

To blame poor Matthew dare, man : j \ 

May dool and sorrow be his lot, 
For Matthew was a rare man. 



ojv j3 scotch bard 

GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. '< ' 

A' YB wha live by soups o' drink, .' i 

A* yo wha live by crambo-clink, [ ) 

A* ye wha live and never think. 

Come mourn wi' me ! 
Our hillie's gien us a' the jink, 
A n' owre the sea- 



104 POEMS^ 

Lament him, a' ye rantin core, '- 
Wl»a dearly like a raiuloui-sjitoie, 
Nae inaJr lie' II join the inci-ry roar, 
III social key; , 

For now he's laeit ai:iilior shore. 
An' owre Uic sea. 

The bonie lasses wecl may wiss hira, 
And in llieir dtmr petitiuus place liiiii ; 
Tile widows, wives, an' a' may blusa him| 

\Vr teaiTu' e'e; 
For wecl I wat they'll sairly miss him, 

Thai's owte the sea. 

O Fortune ! they hae room to grnmhie ; 
Hadst tlion taen atf sdnie drowsy tniinmla, 
Wlia can do noujiht l/ut tyke an' tumble, 

'Twad been nae plea ; 
But lie was gleg as onie wnmble, 
Tliat's owre the sea. 

Aiild, cantic Kijln may weepers wear. 
An' Slain them wi' the sant, saui lear ; 
'Twill make her poor aiild heart, 1 fear, 

In flinders flee ; 
He was her laureate monie a year 

That's owre the sea. 

He saw misfortune's cauld nor.nesi 
Lang imislering up a bluer bla:9t; 
A jillet brak his heart at Jast, 

III may she be! 
So, took a birili afore the mast, 
An' owre the sea. 

To tremble under Fortune's cummocts. 
On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock, 
Wi' his proud, independent stuiuuch, 

Conid ill agree'; 
So, row't his Imrdies iifa hammock. 

An' owre the sea. 

He ne'er was {»ien to great inisgufdlnft 
Yel coin his pouches wad na bide in ; 
Wi' him it ne'er wa.-i vnder htdingt 

He dealt it Vrt-c: 
The Muse wiw a' that he look pride », 
That's owre the sea. 






CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 10£ 

Jamaica bodies, use liim weel, j 

An' liap him in a cozie biel ; 

Ye'll find him ay a dainty chlel, i I 

And foil o' glee ; j | 

He wad na wrang'd the vera Dfil, j j 

That's owre the eca. j i 

Fareweel, my rhyme-com-posivg billiel ! j 

Yotir native soil was right ill-willie ; j j 

Bui may ye flourish like a lily, I 

Now bonilie ! | i 

I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillie, | j 

Tho' owre the sea. ( ! 



OJ^ PJISTOR^^L POETRY. 



flAiL, Poesiel thou njinph reserv'd! 
In cliase o' iheo, what crowds hae swerv'd 
Frae common sense, or sunk cnerv'd 

'Maiig heaps o' clavers ; 
And ocli I o'er aft thy joes ae starv'd, 

'Mid a' thy favours ! 
Say, Lassie, why thy train aniang, 
VViiile loud the trump's heroic clang, 
And sock or Luskin skelp alang 

To death or marriage ; 
Scarce ane has tried the sliepherd-sang ( I 

But wi' miscarriage 1 i 

In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives ; 
Eschylus' pen Will Shakspeare drives; 
Wee Pope, the knurlin till him rives 

Iloratian fame; 
In thy sweet sang, Earbauld, survives 

Ev'n Sappho's flame. 
But thee, Theocritus ! wha matches'? 
They're no herd's ballats, Maro's catches : 
Squire Pope but busks his skinklin patclies 

O' heathen tatters : 
I pass by hunders, nameless wretches, 

TJiat ape their belters. 
In this braw age o' wit and lear, 
Will nane the Shepherd's whistle raair 
Blaw sweetly in its native air 

And rural grace; 
And wi' the far-fam'd Grecian, share 

A rival place ? 
Vol. II. H 



106 POEMS, 

Yes ! thf-re is ai'.e ; a Sc(»ni^•h tallari! ; 
There's ane; come forril, hoiieyt Allan I 
Thou iu;cil iia joiik Iteliial ih;^ hallaa, 

A chisl sae clfvt'r ; 
The teeth o' time may gii;uv Taiiiiallan, 

Cm lliou'.s Cor ever. 

T>iou paints aiild Nature to the riiiics^ 
In thy sweet Caledonian iines ; 
Nae gowdt"!! streaui tiiro' rnyitles twines, 

Where Piiiloiiiel, 
While nightly breezes sweep the viiies^ 

fler griefs wiil tell ! 

Iti gowany ji!pns tliy biirnie strays, 
Wliere lioiiie lasses Ideacli their claes; 
Or trots hy hazePy shaws and liraes, 

W'i' hawihiufis sjray. 
Where blackbirds join tiie slieplierd's |ay» 

At clcsse o' day. 

Thy rsiral i.ives are nature's sel ; 
Nae honihast spates o' nonsense swell ; 
Nac s.iap conceits, hut that sweet spell 

O' wirchiu love, 
That charm ih u f;!i the strongest quel!. 

The sternest oi jvu. 



PliOLOOUE, 

8P0KEN AT THE THEATRE, KLUSLASD, ON NEW YHAX DAI 
EVENING. 

No song nor dance 1 brini? from yon great city 
That queens it o'er our taste — the more's thp pity: 
Tho', by the by, abroad why will you roam ? 
Good sense and taste are natives here at lioinc : 
But not for panegyric I appear, 
I come to wish you all a uood new-year ! 
Old Father Time deputes nve here l>efiire ye, 
Not for to preach, but tell his simple story : 
The sage, prave Ancient coujih'd, and hade me saj 
** You're one year older this important day :" 
If wiser too— he hinted some sugfiestiiyn, 
Bui 'twould be rude, you know, to ask thu question j 
And with a would-be rnfjnish leer and wink, 
He bade me on you press this one word — " think T^ 



CHIE FLY SCO TTISH. 107 

Ye sprightly youths, quite flush witli hope and spirit, 
Who lhinl< to storm tlic world by dint of merit, 
To you the Dotard lias a deal to say, 
]ii his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way I 
Ho Idds you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle, 
That the first blow is ever half tlie battle: 
That tho' some by tlie skirt may try to snatch him , 
Yet by the fore'ock is the hold to catch him : 
That whether doin?, sufferins, or forbearing,', 
You may do miracles by persevLring. 

Last tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair 

Anaelic forms, hit^h Heav'n's peculiar care ! } 

To you auld Kald-pate smooths his wrinkled brow, ] 

Ami himibly begs you'll mind the important— now! 1 

To crown your happiness he asks your leave, -^ 
And olfers, bliss to givs and to receive. 

For our sincere, tho' haply weak endeavours, 
Witn grateful pride we own your many favours: 
And howsoc'er our tongues may ill reveal it, 
Believe our glowing bosoms truly feet it. 



PROLOG UE, I 

I 

SroKEN BY MR. WOODS, ON HIS BENEFIT -NIOHT, 

Monday, \Uh Jlp HI, 1787, | 

When by a generous public's kind acclaim, ; 
Thni dearest meed is granted— honest fame ; 
When here your favour is the actor's lot, 

Nor even the man in private life forgot ; \ 

What breast so df-ad to hoav'nly Virtue's glow, j 

But heaves impassion'd with the grateful throe 1 > 

Toor is the task to please a harh'rous throng, 
It needs noSiddons' powers in Southron's song; 
For here an ancient nation, fam'd afar 
For genius, learning high, as great in war — 
Hail, Caledonia I name for ever dear ! 
Uefore whose sons I'm honour'd to appear ! 
Where every science — every nobler art — 
That can inform the mind, or mend the heart, 
Is known ; as grateful nations oft have found. 
Par as the rude barbarian marks the bound. 



i 
i 
i 

i ! log POEMS, 

i ! Philosopliy, no idle pendant dream, 

Here holds her search hy heaven taught Reason^sbeam 

Here History paints with elegance and force, 

The tide of Empire's fluctuating course ; 

Here Douglas forms wild Shakspeare into plan, 

And Harley* rouses all the god in man. 

When well-form'd taste and spaikling wit unite, 

With manly lore, or female beauty bright, 

(Beauty, where faultless symmetry and grace, 

Can only charm us in the second place,) 

i j Witness, my heart, how oft with panting feai; 

! i As on this night, I've met these judges here ! 

: 1 But stiil the iiope Experience taught to live, 

■ I Equal to judge — you're candid to forgive. 
; I No hundred-headed Riot here we meet, 

■ I With decency and law beneath his feet ; 

I ! Nor Insolence assumes fair Freedom's name ; 

; 1 Like Caledonians, you applaud or blame. 

: O Thou : dread Po wer '. whose empire-giving hand 

1 1 Has oft been stretch'd to shield the honour'd land ! 

j j Strong may she glow with all her ancient fire ; 

I May every son he worthy of his sire ; 

j I Firm may she rise with generous disdain, 

I j At Tyranny's or direr Pleasure's chain ; 

i j Still self-dependent in lier native shore, 1 

I ; Lold may she brave grim Danger's loudest roar, % 

\ 1 Till Fate the curtain drop on worlds to be no more. ) 

;i 

I I THE RIGHTS OF WOMAJST, 

, I IN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLB OH 

j I HER BENEFIT NIGHT. 

j I While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, 

j The fate of empires and the fall of kings ; 

I While quacks of state must each produce his plan, 

' I And even children lisp the RighU of J\Ian; 

Amid this mighty fuss, just let me mention, 
The Rights of JVoman merit some attention. 

First in the sexes' intermix'd connexion, 
One sacred right of Woman is protection.— 
The tender flower that lifts its head, elate, 
Helpless must fall before the blast of fate, 

* The 37an of Fcclivg; written by Mr. M''Kenxis. 



CniEFI r SCOTTISH 
C'lnk on tho earth, defac'il its lovely form, 
L'liies? your sliniler ward tJi* iiiipeiiiliii" slorm. 

O-ir spcoiitj IJiKlit-biit needless Iiere is caution, 
1 *> k.M'p ihai riji;lit iiiviolate's the fashion, 
i:.n(;h iii.tti of sense has it so full before liiui, 
Vr il die before lie'd wrong it— 'tis drroriim.— 
'Jh.ie was itidnml, in lar less jjolisli'd days, 
A ini.e wlien rouiih, rude man had naughty ways; 
VV.Mdd swasijier, swear, get drunk, itick up a riot, 
^ay, even tinis invade a lady's quiet— 
^"W. thank our stars ! those Gothic times are fled : 
rv.nw, wr||.lir((l men— and you are all well bred— 
Rlo.«i jusily think (and we are nnicli the j-ainers) 
tsucli conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners. 

For Riplit the tliird, our last, our best, our dearest, 
That rii!ht to fluttering female liearls the nearest, 
\V hich even Ihe Rights of Kings in low prostration, 
Must Inmdily own— 'tis dear, dear admimtiun! 
Jn iliai blest sphere alone we live and move, 
I'lii-re tas'e that life of life— immortal love.— 
Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, tits, flirtations, airs, 
'<;ainsl sucli k host what fiinfy savage dares— 
When awful Heauty joins with all lier clianns, 
Who is so rasJi as rise in rebel aims? 

Put truce witli kings, and truce with coastitutlons, 
With iiloody armaments and revolutions ; 
Li-l majesty your first attention summon, 
Ak ca Ira! the ftlajesty of Woman ! 



l(B 



ADniiE.'SS, 

erOKEN BY MISS FONTKNELLE, ON HER BENEnT-NIOHl 
DECEMBER 4, 1795, AT THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES 

Still anxiot:s to secure your partial favour, 
And not less anxious sure ihis niglit tlian ever, 
A f'rolotrue. Epilogue, or some such matter, 
'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better; 
So, sought a Poet, roosted near tlie skies. 
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes ; 
Said, notliing like his works was ever printed ; 
And last my Prokigue-business slily hinted. 
" Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes, 
"i know your bent— the?" me no Ipughing timee: 






il !l 

i no POEMS, il 

j i ^ Can you- but, Miss, 1 own I have my fcare, I 

1 i Dissolve in psiuse — and Kennincntal l^ais — ! 

I ! Witli laden sighs, and soU^iun-rouiided seulcnce, \ 

! I Rouse from his sluggish sluuibt is, fell Hcpemance ; j 

Taint Vengeance as he takes his horrid sluad, 1 ! 

Waving on high tlie desolating brand, > j 

Calling the stonns to bear him o'er a guilty land !" \ ' | 

I could no more— askance the creature eyeing, j 

D'ye think, said [, this face was made for cryinjj 1 i 

I'll laugh, that's poz— nay more, the world shall know lt| 1 1 

And so, your servant ! gloomy master poet ! j j 

Firm as my creed, Sir, 'tis my fix'd belief, j j 
That Misery's another word for Grief; 

I also think — so may I be a bride I ' ' 

That so much laughter's so much life enjoy'd. ' ! 

T'lou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh, ! ] 

Siili under bleak Misfortune's blasling eye; 
Doom'd to that sorest task of man alivt: — 
To make three guineas do the work of five; 
Laugh in Misfortune's face — the beldam witch: 
Say, you'll be merry, iho' you can't be rich. 

Thou other man of care, the wretch in love, 
Who long with jiltish arts and airs has! strove: 
Who, as the boughs all iemptingly project, 
Measur'st in df^sperate thousht— a rope— thy neck — 
Or, where the bleeting cliff o'erhangs the deep, 
Peeresl to meditate the healing leap; 
Would'st thou be cur'd, lliou silly, moping elf 1 
Laugh at her follies— laugh e'en at thyself: 
Learn to despise those frowns, now so terrific, 
And love a kiiuler — that's your grand specilic. 

To sum up all, be merry, I advise; 
And as we're merry, may we still be whc. 



i! 

'! FRjSGJUEjVT, 

• inscribed to the kioii r hon. 0. j. fox. 

I How wisdom and folly meet, mix, and mute, 

I flow virtue and vice blend their black and tiieir while, 

How genius, t!i' illustrious lather of fiction. 
Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction— 
r sing: If these mortals, the critics, should bustle, ^ 

I I care not, not I, lei the critics go whistle. 



CHJEFL Y SCO TTISH. 1 1 1 

But now for a Patron, whose name and whose glory 
At once may illustrate and honour my story. 

Tliou first of our orators, first of our wits ; 
Y»'t whose parts and arquinniPiits seem mere lucky hits; 
With knou'litdKe so vast, and with judgment so strong, 
No man with thp. half of 'em ere went far wrong; 
With |)assions so potent, and fancies so bright, 
No man with the half of 'em e'er went quite right; 
A so.ry, poor rnisbegot son of the Muses, 
For using thy name offers fifty excuses. 

Good L— d, what is man ! for simple as he looks, 
r>o l>ul try to develop his hooks and his ciooks ; 
A\'ith his depths and his shallows, his good and his eviS, 
All in all lie's a problem must puzzle the devil. 

On his one riilinc passion sir Pope hugely labours, 
That, like th' old Hebrew walking-switch, eats up its neigh- 
hours: 
Mankind are his show-box— a friend, would you know himi 
Ptill the string — ruling passion the picture will show him. 
What pity, in rearing so beauteous a system, 
Oi>e iriflins particular, truth, shou'd have n.iss'd him ; 
For spile of his fine theort!tic positions, 
Wankind is a science defies definitions. 

Some sort all our qualities each to its Iribe, 
And tiiink h»iman nulure ihey truly describe: 
Ilavc you found this or t'other 1 there's more in the wind, 
As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find. 
But sucii is tlie flaw, or the depth of the plan, 
In the make of that wonderful creature, call'd Man, 
No two virtues, whatever relaiion tiiey claim, 
Nor even two different shades of the same, 
Thoiigli like as was ever twin brother to brother, 
Possessing the one shall imply you've the other 



LYSCRIPTIOJ^ 

rORAN ALTAR TO INPEPENPENCE, AT KERROrOHTR^, TEI 
BSAT or MR. HEKON, WRITTEN IN SUMMER, UPS. 

Tnor of an independent n.ind, 

■With sold resolv'd, with soul resign'd ; 

Prepar'ti Power's proudest frown to brave, j 

Who will not be, nor have a slave; | 

Virtue alone who dost revere, J I 

Tliy own reproach alone dosi fear, ^ > j 



Approach this shrine, and worship here. 



j U5 POEMS, 

:| .VDDRESS TO EDIXBUKGS, 

■i *• 

. j Edina ! Scotia's darlin? scat ! 

ji All icii I Uiy palaces arul low' rs, 

1 1 Where a;!C(! beiseaili a iiioiiarcir.-s feci 

?j Sar lejzisliitioii's sav'roitcn [iKw'rs I 

Froiii marking wiltiiy-^caucrii tlow'rs^ 

As on the banks oK'lyr \ sirayM, 

And sini^ing, lone, ihe linir'rin-.' hours, 

1 shflter in iJiy honour'd shade. 

n. 

?rr;i e wealth stiil swnils tlie golden tide, 

As busy lrad(; his labonis plifs ; 
There aichitectur&'s noble pride 

Bids clejjauce and splendour rise; 
Here Justice, from hs-r native skies, 

High wields her balance and Iter rod; 
Theie Learning with his cauleeyea. 

Seeks science in her coy alKxJa, 

li III. 

I Thy S(-ns, Edina, Focia!, kind, 

1 1 With open arisis the stranger liait ; 

I j Their views eniaru'd, tlicir lib'ral mind 

I I Above tiie narrow, rural vale; 
yiitenliv? still to soi row's wail, 

Or modest merit's silent claim ; 
And never may their sources Tail ! 
! Ana never envy blot their name. 

I IV. 

i Tliy daughters bright lliy walks adornt; 
1 Gay as the gilded suirimer »Ky, 

I • Sweet as the dewy milk white thorn, 

j Dear as the raittur'd thrill of joy ! 

\ Fair B strikes th' adoring eye ! 

! lleav'n's beauties on niy fancy shine^ 

I I eec the sire of Iwe on hifffi, 

I And own Ids work indeed divine ! 

I 

i There, watchinsr liiah the least <i1armSj 

S j Thy rough, rude fortress sfleams afar; 

I ■ Like some bo'd vet' ran, gray in arms, 

; i And njark'd with many a scaiuy BcaKj 



i1 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 113 

The pond'rous wall and massy bar, 

Grim-iisin<; o'er the rucged rock ; 
Have oft witi>stood assaifinji war, 

And oft repelled the invader's shock. 

VI. 
With awe-struck ilionght and pitying tears, 

I view that noble, stately dome, 
Where Scclia's kincs of oilier years, 

Fam'd heroes, had their loyal iiome: 
Alas ! liow clianu'd the time to come ; 

Their royal name low in the diisl ; 
Their hajilcss race wild-wand'ring roam! 

Tlio' rigid law cries out, 'twas just ! 

vn. 

Wild beatf! my heart to trace your steps. 

Whose ancestors, in diys of yore, 
Tfiro' hosiile ranks and ruui'd gaps, 

Old Scotia g Moody lion bote ; 
Ev'n / who sing in rustic lore, 

Ilaj>ly 7iiy sires have left their shed, 
And I'ac'd crim danger's loudest roar, 

Bold following wliere your fathers led ! 

VIIL 
Edina .' Scotia's darling seat ! 

All hai! thy palaces and low'rs, 
Where once beneath a monarch's feet 

Sat legishilion's sov'reign pow'rs! 
From niarkins wi!<!!y-sc8lter'd flow'rs, 

As on the bajsks of .^jrr I stray'd, 
And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, 

1 shelter in thy honour'd shade. 



'■.'■^i>p-~^.\'^.ii^ ^,-, 



Book V. 

60NGS AND BALLADS. 

Ji riSTOjY 

As T Ptood oy yon rnnfli^ss lowrr, 

Wtiiire tliti \v;i'-rti»\ver sceiiis th« (\o\vy air 
WliiTO the liowlet innnrns in hi't ivy Imvve?, 

And tells lilt* niiiliiiglu iiiouii lier cure : 

Tlif! winds were laid, tlie air was still, 
The stars they shot alanii the sky ; 

Tlie fox was howiinj; on the hill, 
And the distant-echoing f,'lens reply 

The stream, adown its liazelly path. 

Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, 
IlasMnjr to join tlie sweciiinj; Nith, 

Wliase distant roaring swells and fa's. 

The canid blup. north was streaming forth 
IFer lights, wi' hissing perie din ; 

Athnrt the lift they start and shii't, 
Like Fortune's favouis, tint as win. 

By heedless chance T turn'd my eycf, 
And by the moon-beam, shook, to sefi 

A Elern and stalwart gliaist ari<e, 
Altir'd as minstrels wont to be. 

IJad I statue been o' stane, 
llts darin look had daunted me: 

And on his bonnet urav'd was plain, 
Tlie sacred po^y— L'berlie ! 

And frae his harp sic strains did flow, 
Mii!!it rous'd the slunibeiing dead tohOtf ; 

But oh : it was a tale ot' wo. 
As ever met a Driton's ear ! 



i-.l'W.it;; 



POEMS, CHTEFLT SCOTTIStl. 1i5 |j 

fie {"ang w\' joy his former day, | ( 

He, wuppii'i;,', wail'd liis latter times; j [ 

But wliai lie said it was iir.o play, I ! 

I wiutia vculur't ia tny rliyujes.* j i 



BJl.N'XOCKFUnj^r. j 

ROBERT BRUCE'S ADBRESS TO HIS ARMf j 

PcoTS, wlia Iiae \vi' Wallace l)led, i 

Scots, wham Bruce has af'leii led ; ^ 

Welcome to yo\ir cory bed, j 

Or to glorious victorie. i 

Now's the day, and now's the hour ; ! 

?ie (he fr.mt o' hattle lower; j 

See approach proud Kdward's power— 1 1 

Kdward : chains ! and slavcrie ! i j 

V.'ha will he a traitor litiavc 7 ! j 

^\'lul can till a cowaid's yrave ? ! ; 

Wha sae hase as he a slave 1 \ \ 

Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee I 'I 

Wha for Scotland's kin<i and law [ \ 

F>-eed<)m's sword will strongly draWj | i 

Fri;e man stand, or frec-tnaa fa'1 J | 

Calediuii.an I on wi' nie I j ; 

By oppression's woes and pains! j j 

Ily ymir suns in sfjrvile chains ! , i 

We will dram our dtarest vein?, ; \ 

But they sludl he — shall he free I '< l 

Lay the proud usurpers low! ; j 

Tyrants fall in every foe ! j \ 

Lihenv's in every hlow ! i i 

Forward : let us du, or die ! ! j 



* The scenery sn fivdy described in this poem, is taken ; | 

from nature. The }«>n is siijip':-!f:d to be vuisivfr^ l,y vi^ht, | | 

tn the banks of the Cludni, vear the riiivs of Linclii:!cn-itbbcij, ; j 

cf which, .tome account iff n-imn in Pe.vnant's T>iur and Ij 

(irnfe's Jintupntic.t. It is to be rrprrttcd ihiit lie sui']i^(sf<rd \ \ 

the tonir of l.ibrrtie. From the rn-onrrc." </////.? i^en.u.''. mid i : 

the frraiidii.r and solenniitij nf the pri /inr.it'cn, .<i>iiii tbi'iff '; 

rui'ht have brrn anticiputid, ei/iuil, if not sn/xrioi-, la the . , 

address of Bruce to his Jinny, to the Son it of Jitath, or to ; j 

ae fervid and ncble dcscrijjtwn of the JHing Soldier in tPu \ i 

fUld of battle. j 



! ! 116 POEMS, 

ii 

1 1 SONG OP DEATH. 

M 

1 1 EcESK— Afield of battle. Time nf the day— F.reninit.— ThA 

i ; wtiunded and dying of the victorious army are supposed 

i ; to join in the fulloicing Song. 

1 1 Farewell, tliou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies. 

i Now gay willi the briglit setting piin ; 

i i Farewell, loves and frieridsjiips, ye dear tender ties, 

1 1 Our race of e,'<i.5tence is run ! 

I j Thou grim king of terrors, tliou life's gloomy foe, 

I j Go, frighten the coward and slave : 

! Go, teacii them lo tremble, fell tyrant! but know, 

j i No terrors hast tliou to the brave I 

I ! Thou strik'st the dull peasant— he sinks in the dark, 

I j Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name : 

I I Thou strik'st the young hero— a glorious mark! 
i j lie falls in the blaze of his fame I 

j i In the field of prr -d honour — our gwords in our hands, 

I ' Our King and mr conntiy to save— 

j I While Victory fhuies on life's last ebbing sands, 

i i O ! wlio woul ■ not rest wilii tlie brave ! 



ii IMITATIOJ^ 

\ \ OF AN OLTl JACOIUT?: SONR, 

I j By yon caslle wa' at the c'o.-e of the day, 

! I I heard a man sing, thouL'h his head it was gray; 

' And as lie was singing, the tcais fast down came— 

! There'll never be o'-.iCtj ti!l Jamie comes hame. 



I ! The churcii is in ruins, the s!ate is in ;ars ; 

I i Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars ; 

i j We dare na weel say't., but we ken wha's to blame— 

I j There'll never be pi aco till Jamie comes hame. 

I j My seven brav/ sons for Jamie drew sword, 

I I And now I greet round thoir green beds in the yerd, 
I j It brak the sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld dame— 

i ! There'll never be peace till Jamie comes Jiame. 

j j Now life is a burden that bows me down, 

I j Sin' 1 tint my bairns, and he tint his crown ; 

i ! But till my last moment my words arc the same — 

I j There II never be peace till Jamie comes harae. 



CHIEFL Y S CO TTIS U. I n 

THE LASS OF INVERNESS 



THE JlBSEKT WARRIOR 
Tunc — " Lofran Water." 



TnK lovely lass o' Invenics.", 

Nai: j<iy nor plt-asiirt- can she see ; 
For f'«'ii anil iiiorii sJn; cries, alas! 

And aye the saui tear blin's her e'e! 

Driimnssic ninor, Driimossie day, 

A wa^.-rii' (lay ii ua:* lo nie ; 
For Ihrre I \i^<\ my I'ailit^r dear, j 

^\y falln'r dtar, and hrcihren three. | 

Tiioir wMidinif-sIiect the Miiidy clay, \ 

Tlscir srravcs art- i:r<i\vii:<; «r"<-i.-n lo seCi 
And l>y ihtin li<!J life dcarc.vi lad 

Thai ever blest a woman's e'e 1 

Now wao to thee, Ihoii crnel lord, 

A hlnidy man I trow llmn lif^ . 
For nn.inie a li<ari ihun hasi made pair, 

That ne'er did wron" to iJnne or lhe» 



O LooAN, sweptly didst thoii L'lide, \ \ 

That day I was my Willie's liride ; | • 

And >t'ars sinsyiie liave o'er ns run, > \ 

I/ike liii<;an lotlie simmer son. 1 1 

I?ut now ihy llow'ry hanks a|i|iear, j i 

l.ike drnndie winter, (iark and drear; !> 

While my dear la<i maun faie his faes, I \ 

Far, far ftae ine and Logan braes. j i 

Asain tlif merry month o' Way [j 

JIas niade oiir hills and valleys uay: i • 

'J"he hirds rejoire in leufy lM»wers, i ■ 
The b.-.'s hum rr.nnd ilir bit-athing flowers: 
I'.hilie nmrmny litis ins io>y rye, 

And cvenin.'^'s tears are tears ul' joy ; \ ^ 

My smil, delitihtless, a' surveys, |.; 

While Willie's far frae Logan braes. ; f 



POEMS, 

Within yon miik-white hawthnrn bush, 
Amang her nestlings siis tiip tiirnsh ; 
Her faitiifu' male will share her toil, 
Or wi' his snnj,' lier cares he<:ui!e ; 
But .', wi' my sweet inirslinjr.s here. 
Nan mate to help, nae mate to cJieer, 
Pass wiflnw'd nights and joyless ilayg, 
Wliile Willie's far frac Logan brat-s. 

O wae ujion yon, men o' state, 
Tlial hrelinen rouse to deadly hate I 
As ye make monle a fond iieart mourn, 
Sae may it on ^-our h«ads reiurn ! 
How can yonr (linty hearts enjoy 
The widow's tears, the orpiian's cry 1 
But soon may ]ioace hi ins I'appier days, 
And Willie, hame to Logan braes ! 



THE WARRIOR'S RETVRJV 



jl ^iV-" The Mill, Mill, O 



i When wild war's deadly hlast was blawo, 

1 1 And genlle peace retnrniri!:, 

i i Wi' nionin a sweet hahe fatherless. 

And monie a widow mourning : 

I left the lines and tented field, 
Where lang I'd been a lodger, 

My humble knapsack a' my wealth, 
A poor and honest sodger. 

A leal, liirht heart was in my breast, 
i 1 My hand unstain'd wi' |<lnnder ; 

j ! And for fair Scotia hame again, 

! \ I cheery on did wander. 

n 

i i I thought upon the hanks o' Coil, 
j i I thought upon my Nanry, 

■ I I thought upon the winhinj! pmjie 
j j Tliat caught my youthful faucy. 

I j At length I reach'd the bonie glen, 

; i Wliere early life 1 sported ; 

i • 1 passed the mill and trystin thorn, 

I ; Where Nancy aft T courted : 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 119 

Wlia spied I but my ain d^ar maid, 

IldWii Ity Iier mullier's ilwrllinj! ! 
Aiu! iiinrii iiif! r(»uti(l to liulf ilic fluod 

'i'liai ill my eeii was awtjlliiig. 

Wi' altiM'd voice, quoth I, swi-ft lass 
s^wcci as you iiawtliornV lilorisoui, 

: liappy, haiijjv may lis- ix-, 
Tlial's dearest to thy bosum ! 

I\Iy iMirsc is light, I've far to pang, 

And lain would be thy lod^i-r; 
I've serv'd my liiiig and country lang, 

'J'ake pity on a ssodgtjr. 

Sae wistniily plie ca/.'d on me. 

And ii>\elier was than ever: 
Quo' siie, ;i ^ioiUer aiice I lo'td, 

Torgei him siiuil I iiuvcr : 

Oiir hmnlile cot, and iiamely fare, 

Ve iVetiy shall partake it, 
Tiial tiallant badtre, the dear cockade, 

Ye' re welcome for tlie sake o't. 
Shetra/,'d — site redden'd like a rose— 

fcJyne p;lle like ony lily; 
She sank within my arms, and cried, 

An tiiou my ain dear Willie ? 
By fiim who made yon sun and sky — 

F?y whom true love's regarded, 

1 ain the man ; and thus may still 

True lovers be rewarded. 
The wars arc o'er, and I'm come hamCj 

And find thee s'i.l triie-heartid : 
Tiio" poor in gear, we're rich in love, 

And niair we'se ne'er \n: parted. 
Quo' she. my jiraintsire left mc i;t>wd, 

A mailen plcnish'd fairly ; 
And come, my faiihl'iil sodjier lad, 

Thou'rt welcome to it deatly! 
For ijoid the merchant ploughs the main 

'i'lie farmer plouiihs the manor; 
nm silory is the sodjitr's prize; 

'J'he sod^ier's wealth is honour : 
Tlie biave poor sodirer ne'er despise 

Nor count him as a straef^er, 
Remember he's bis country''' stny 

In day and hour of dan<;er. 






i! 



LORD GREGORY. 

' 1 O MIRK, milk is tiiis niidnifrUt hour 

I I Ami iDiiii llio leinpcsrs mar ; 

i I A wacfij' vviiiiiierer seeks iliy low'r, 

I ' Lord Gregory, ope tiiy door. 

s - An exilo frae her father's ha', 

1 j And a' for loviim tiiee ; 

I ; At least some pili/ on me shevVi 
I ! Uloce it may iiu be. 

I I Lord Gro!;ory, mind'st thou not tho grov« 
I i By bonie Irwiiie i-ide, 

1 J VVIiere first I ownd that virgin-love 

I ■ I laiig, lung had denied. 

! I 

i • How aften didst thou plodgfi and vow, 

I ' Thou wad for ay he mine ! 

! i And my fond iieart, itsel sae true, 

i i It ne'er mistrusted thine. 

i! 

I ! Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory, 

i ! And flinty is tliy breast ; 

i i Thou dart of f leaven llial flashest by, 

( I O wilt tliou give me rest I 

!i 

! j Yc mustering tluindcrs from above, 

i I Your wining victim see : 

i i But spare, and pardon my fause love, 

• i His wraugs to Heaven and me J 



I 

j I OPEJ\r THE DOOR TO JlfjE, OHl 

j j WITH ALTERATIONS 

i Oh, open the door, somo pity to show 

I Oh, open the door to nie, Oh ! 

y Tho' tl)ou hast been false, Pi! ever prove true, 

I Oh, open the door to me, Oh ! 



Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, 
Butcaulder thy love for lue. Oh ! 

TJie frost that freezes the life at my heart, 
Is nought to my imiua frae ihee, Oh ! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. ISl 

The wan moon is setting behind the wnite wave 

AiiU inne is sctiiiij; w iih me, Oh ! 
False frit'iiila, falsie love, farewell ! for mair 

I'll ne'er trouble iheni nor ihce; Oh ! 

She has openM the door, slie lias open'd it wide ; 

She sees his pa'.e cotse on the i)i;iin, On I 
My true h»ve, she cried, and sank down by his side, 

Never to rise again, OJi ! 



THE EKTREATY. ! 

7V7JC— " Let me in this ac night." 1 1 

O LARSiK, art thou sleeping 5 et ? j 

Or art thou walun, I would wit? | 

For hove has bnuiid me hand and foot, \\ 

And 1 would fain be in, jo. { \ 



O let me in this ae vijrht, 

This «e, OP, ae niirht; 
For pity's sake, this ae night. 
O rise and let me in. jo. 

Tliou hear'st the winter wind and woet, 
Nae star blinks iliro' the driving steet; 
Tak pity on my weary feet, 

And sliield mo ftae the rain, jo 
O let, &c. 

The liitter blast that round me blaws, 
UnltefMlt'O howls, unheeded fa'g ; 
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause 
Of a' mv grief and pain, jo. 
O lei, fcc. 



THE ,ejysfrER. 

O T«r,r na me 0' wind and rain, 
ti'ptjniid na me wi' criulil disdain! 
Cae bark iJ.e gai*- ye .-am again, 
I winna let you in. 10. 

Vol. II. I 



il. iiJ2 - POEMS, 



I tril you vnic t'lis ac night, 

Thi" lie, (le, ae riii'fit; 
^Inil nncr f'"- r' ..»<•■* at night 
1 tctnna Iciyuu in, Jo. 

The snniiest Mast, at mirknst hours, 
Tiiat loiiiid tlio paililcss vvamrrtt (loura, 
Is iioclit to wliai jKiiir slie «'iidiitt'8, 
Tliat's iruslcil raitlil»!ss man, jo. 
I lei I, &c. 

Tlio s\vppfn?t flower tint (Kvk'd the me&d. 
Now liddden like the vilest w<'«'d ; 
Lei siaiple maid tlie lesson r.'a<i, 
Tlio weird may In; lier aiii, jo. 
] tell, &.C. 

The bird that charm'd hk siimmcr-day, 
Is now ihe criK^I fowler's prey ; 
Lei witless, tnisiiriy wmnaM say 
How aft her fate's the sa'.ue, jo. 
1 lull, &c. 



THE FORLORX LOVER. 
Tune—' Let nie in this ae night." 

Forlorn, my love, no comfort near, 
Far, far from thee, I wander here, 
Far, far from iliee, the fate severe 
At vvhicli 1 njusi repine, Jove. 



O wert thnu, love, but near me, 
But ve.ar, near, near vie: 
How kindly thou ironldst cheer me, 
JiiiiL ndngle sighs with mine, lov». 

Around me pcowlia a wint'ry skv. 
Thai hiasts each Imd of hope ami toy; 
And slieller, shade, nor home have f, 
Save in liiose arms of ihine, love. 
O wen. &.C 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 123 

Cold, altpr'd friendship's cruel part;, 
To poison Fortiino's niliil<>sH dart— 
Lei Hie u^\. break i.'iy faiililul l.^art, 

And say lliai fate is mine, luve. 
O wen, &.C, 
But dreary tho' the moments flpet, 
O III me tliink we yot yli.Tll wieei '. 
Tiiai only ray of solace sweet 

Can on iJiy Chloris shine, love. 
O werl, &.C. 



THE DRE.^RY JVIG HT. 
Tmie — " Caulfi Kail in Aberdeen." 
How lonp and dreary is the hij;ht, 

When I am ftae my dtarie f 
I n-Ptless lie frae e'en to iriorn, 

Though 1 were ne'er sae weary. 

CHORUS. 

For oh, her lancbj nights are lang; 

yind oh, her dreams are eerii-; 
^nd oh, her uidow'd heart is sair, 

Thai's abse7U frae her dearie. 
When 1 tliink on the lightsome days 

I sjieiit wi' thee, my dearie ; 
And now what s«";is hetween us roar, 

llow can 1 bui be eerie ? 

For oh, &c. 
IIow slow ye move, ye heavy hours ; 

The joyless <lay, how dreary ! 
It wns na spe ye clinied by. 

When 1 was wi' my dearie. 
For oil, &,c. 



POORTTTH CJ9ULD 
Turn-—" I had a hf)rsc." 
O FOOFTjTii cauld, and restless lova 
Ye wrttk my peace between ye ; 
Yet fioorcjih a" I could forgive, 
An' 'twcie na for my Jeany. 



124 POEMS 



O why should Fate sic pleasure havt 
J.ifi's dearest bands uiit>r,tr.iug1 

Or lohy sac sweet ajiower as /.one. 
Depend on Fortune's shining ? 

This warld's wealth, when I tliink oi 
li's ()fiii(; ami a' ih« lave o'l; 

Fi«', fii'oti silly cowaril man, 
Thai he should he the slave o't. 
O why, &c. 

Ilpr een sae honie hlue hetrny 
HdW she lepays my itassinn ; 

Bui prudt^iice is her o'eru-urd ay, 
She talks of rank -iiid fashion. 
O wily, &c. 

O wha can prudence ihliik upon, 

Ami sic a lassie by iiint 1 
O wha can prudenre think upon, 

Aud sae in love as I am ? 
O why, &,c. 

How blest the hnmhie cotter's fate! 

lie vviKis his simple dt-arie ; 
The sillie holies, wt alih and state, 

Can never make them eerie. 
O why, &.C. 



CLj3RIJ^DA. 

CiARiNPA, mistress of my soul, 
The measnr'd time is run! 

Tli»' wreirh beneath the dreary pole, 
So marks his latest sun. 

To what dark cave of frozen night 

Shall poor Sylvander hie; 
DeprivM of tliee, his life and light, 

The sun of all his joy. 

We part — but by these precious dropi 

Tnat till lliy lovely eyes ! 
No other light shall guide my steps 

Till tliy bright beatus ariie. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 125 !j 

The, tlio fair sun of all licr sey, j ! 

lias bicsi my ptorioiis day ; I j 

And sliall a filiminerin}: piaael fix i ! 

fily worslJp to its i ay ? I 



IS^BELLJl. 

Tvnc—" M'G rigor dfJlero's Lament." 

Pavino winds around lior Mowing, 
Yfllow leaves ll.'o woodl/nids slruwing, 
ny i. rivor liohrsely roaring, 
Isal)p!la stray'd, de[)ionn£j— 
" Farewell, lioiirs tlial late did measure 
Fiiiisliiiio days of joy and |)leasure; 
Hail, llion L'loorin (iii.'li' <jr sorrow, 
Clrccrless nitjln th:^' knows no morrow. 

" O'OT the. past too fondly wandering, 
On \hf. liopeless future pondering; 
CJnliy jjrief niy life-blood freezes, 
Fell despair my fancy seizes. 
Life, tlion soul of every blessing, 
L<iad to misery most distressing, 
O liow ^ladly I'd resign tliee, 
And to dark oblivion join lljee !" 



Wj^^TDERIJ^O IFILi^lE. 

1J»KK awa, there awa, wandering Willio, 
Here awa, there awa, hand away hame; 

Come to my iiosorn, my ain onlv dearie. 
Tell me lliou bring'st me my Willie the same. 

Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, 
Fears for my Willie brought tears in mv e'e ; 

Welcome ROW simmer, and welcome my "Willie, 
The einuner to nature, my Willie to me. 

Ron, ye wild storms, in Die cave of yo-jr slumbers, 
How your diead howling a lover alarms ! 

« «uken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows : 
And wan my dear laddie ance mair to my arms 



156 POEMS, 

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his N'anle, 
Flow still betvveeii us, tliou wide-roaring main; 

May I never see it, may I never trow it, 
But, dying, believe ituu my Willie'u my ain ! 



THE IKIRTING KISS. 

Jockey's taen the parting kiss, 
(^'er the mountains lie is gane ; 

And with liim is a' my bliss, 
J\ouglU but griefs with me remain 

Spare my Inve, ye winds that blaw, 
Plasliy sleets and beating rain : 

Spare my Inve, tlion feathery snaw, 
Urifiiiig o'er the frozen plain! 

When the shades of evening creep 
O'er the day's fair, gladsoine e'e, 

Sound and safely may he sleep, 
Sweetly blitlie his waukening be ! 

Up will think on her he loves, 
Fondly he'll repeat her name; 

For where'er he jhsiant roves. 
Jockey's heart is still at haine. 



THE ROARIJ^'G OCEAJ^. 
Tune—'-' Druimion dubli." 

5lf STNO on the roaring ocean. 
Which divides my love ami me; 

Wearying Heaven in warm devotiofij 
For Ills weal, where'er lie be. 

Hope and fear's alternate billow 

Yielding late to Nature's law ; 
Wliis|i"rMi!i ^piri!s round my pillonV 
'J'alk (if hini that's fat awa. 

Ve whom sorrow never wounded, 
Ve who never shed a tear. 

Care untroubled, joy-surrounded, 
Gaudy day to you is dear. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. W jj 

Gentle night, do thou befiiend me ; j I 

Downy sleep the curtain diaw; i 

Spirits kind, again attend nie, | 
Talk of him that's far awa ! 



P^IR ELlZJi. 



A OAELIC AIR. 



TrRN again, thouYair Eliza, 

Ae kind hlink before we partj 
Rew on liiy despairing lover \ 

Canst thou break his fai:hlu' hGSl 1 
Turn again, thou fair Eliza; 

If to love Ihy heart denies, 
For pity hide the cruel sentence 

Under friendi^hip's kmd disguise I 

Thee, dear maid, Iiac I offended 1 

Th.» offence is loving thee ; 
Canst thou wreck his peace for ever, 

Wha for thine would gladly die 1 
Wliiic the life boats in my bosom, 

Tliou shall mix in ilka tliroe, 
Turn again, thou lovely maiden, 

Ae sweet smile on me bestow. 

Not tfie bee upon the blossom, 

In the pride o' sinny noon : 
Not the little sporting fairy, 

All beneath the simmer moon ; 
Not the poet in the moment 

Fancy lightens on liis e'e, 
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, 

That thy presence gies to me. 



ELIZA. 
Tlunc—" Nancy's to tlio Greenwood," &c 

Farewkll, thou stream that winding flowi 

Around Eliza's dwelling ! 
O nitim'ry, spare the cruel throeii 

Within my bosom swelling. 



Condemn'd lo drns' a lio[,o'rss chalS, 

And yvl i:i socm l;iM;;i)isti, 
To iKfi n tire in »^v'iy vein, 

Nor Jrtrt; disclose my anguish. 

I^ove's veriest wretch, nnseen. unknown, 

I Cain :riy i;rie(s wunlil cover : 
Tiiu biusiiufi siuh, tli' uiuveeiiug groan 

Boiray liie Isajrler^s lover. 
I know liion (toDm'sl ine to il^spair, 

Nor wilt nor canst leiieve uw. ; 
Bui oil, F-iiza, iiear one prayer. 

For pity's sake (uigive me. 

The music of tliy voice I lieard. 

Nor wisi, wlii!(! it enslavM me ; 
I saw tlii:se eyes, yet notliinj; lear'd, 

'J'ili fears no more liad ?av'd mo; 
Tile unwary sailor ilms a^'liast, 

Tite wlieeiin^ lorrent \ii'win^ ; 
Mid circliiii; tmrrors sinks at lasl 

Iij overwhtiimiu'' ruii!. 



DEFARTURE OF JV.IJ^CT. 
Tuns—''' Oran-gaoil." 

Behold the liour, the boat arrive ; 

Tiiou };oe."t, iliou d.iilin!.' of my heart ! 
Sever'd from thee, ran I survive ? 

But fdie has wjii'd, and we must part 

I'M often preel this surging swe!!, 
Yon dJiiiant isle will often hail : 

"E'en iie.«-e I tuok ilie last farewell; 
There latest mark'd her vanish'd sail." 

Along the solitary sliore. 

While (iitiiiig sea-fowl round me cry, 
Across the rolling, dasliiag roar, 

I'll westward turn my wiiifu! eye: 

Happy, thou Indian crove, I'll say, 

W'lierv' mw my Nancy's path may be ! 

"Millie Ifiro' thy sweets she loved lo stray, 
O tell me, does s!ie nmse on mo 1 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISIL 12i» 

MY NANIE'S AWA. 

TVtne— " There'll never be peace," &c. 

Kowin Jier procn mantle blitlie Nature arrays, 
>\n.l lisii-ns tlie lambkins that b!eat o'er tlie braes, 
While birvis warble vvficome in iikn green sliavv; 
Bui to me it's deligiulcss— my Nanie's awa. 

The snaw-drap atid primrose our woodlands adorn, 
And violets biillu; in tjie weel o' the morn ; 
They pain my sad bosom, sae s%vcetly tliey blaw, 
They mind me o' Nanie — and Nanie's awa. 

Thou lav'rock that springs frAe the dews of the !awn, 
The shepiierd lo warn o' the cray-breakin? dawn, 
And thou mellow mavis that hails the iiiglii fa', 
Give over for pity — my Kanie's awa. 

Come, autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and gray 
/itxd sooih me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay: 
The dark drf'ary wiiner and wild driving snaw 
Alane can delight me — iiow Nanie's awa. 



GLOOMY DECEMBER. 

Anck malr T hail tl'ee, thou gloomy December ! 

Ance uiair I jiail thee, wi' sorrow and care ; 
Cad was the parting thou makes me remember, 

Parting wi' Nancy, oh ! ne'er lo meet mair ! 

Fond lovers' parting is svi'oet painful pleasure: 
Hope beaming mild on the soft-parting hour ; 

But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever! 
Is anguish unmingied and agony pure. 

Wild as the Winter now tearing the forest, 
Till the last leafo the Sunnner is flown, 

Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom, 
Since my last hope and last comfort is gone. 

BliU as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, 
Still shall [ hail thee wi' sorrow and care; 

for sad t^as the parting thou makes iiie remember. 
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair. 



130 POEMS, 

THE T1RAE3 O' BALLOCIIMYLB. 

Tnt- Catrine woods wore yollow 5Con, 
'I'lie Mowers dicayM or. ('airinc lea, 

Nae lav'rr)c,k sanji; on liillock green, 
Bui Nature sicken'd on llie c'e. 

Thro' fadPd crovcs Maria sang, 

Ilersel iti Iwaiity's hloom (lio whyle. 

And ay ihu wild-wood ochoos ran;;, 
Farewell ihe braes o' Balluchinyle. 

Low in your wint'ry bods, ye flowers, 
Au'ain ye'il t'ourisli fresh and fair; 

Ye hirdies dunih, in witli'iiu!; bowers^ 
Again ye'll tharni ilie vocal air; 

But hrre, alas ! fin me nae mnir 
Sliall birdie charm, or flow'ret stnilc, 

Farewi'll llie bonio banks of Ayr, 
FareweU, farewell '. sweel Builochmjrto. 



(i 

(i 

j B^J^irS O' DOOM 

\\ Ye banks ami braesso' honie Doon, 

i How can ye l>l"om sae fresh and fair; 

( j How can ye chant, yo hitle liirds, 

[ I And I sae weary, fu' o' care 1 

' j Thon'Ii break my heart, thou warbling bird, 

; j That wantons thro' the flowering Uiorn: 

( ! Thou minds me o' departed joys, 

i j Departed, never to return. 

[! Oft hac I rov'd by bonie Doon, 

I i To see the rose and woodbine twine ; 

jj And ilka bud saUfi o' its iove, 

\\ And fondly sac did I o' mine. 

\\ Wi' lisiitsome h<;art I pn'd a rose, 

\ Pn' swn!;t upon its thorny tree ; 

i A'^d (uy <";i!!sc lover stole my rose, 

1 Bur, all ; hi' left the thorn wi' me. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 13J 

CRAGIE-BURN 

Tune—'^ Cragie-burn-wood." 

BWEET fa's tlip ovp on Crafrie burn, 

Aii.i liiiibe awakes ihi- inoiiow, 
B'lt a' t)i.' (itide <>' sprmji's nauni 

Can > iuld lue iiochl bul .sorrow. 

I sr>e the flowers and spreading trees, 

i hear tlie wild bird,< sinj;iii<; ; 
Buf wliai a wary wiiilit can please, 

And care his bosom wringing 7 

Fain, fain would I .ny giicfs impart, 

Yfl ilare na for your anyer: 
Bill secret love wiii break jny lieart, 

If I conceal ii langer. 

If thou ri'fnse to pity me, 

Ifilioii sliali love aiiiil;er. 
When yon yreen leaves tade frae the tree, 

Around my grave lluy'll wither. 



THE CHEERLESS SOUL. 
Tunc— " Jockey's Grey Breeks." 

AoAiN rejoicinj; Nature sees 

Her robe assume its vernal hues, 
Her leafy locks wave in tiie breeze. 

All freshly sleep'd in morning dews. 

In vain to me the cowslips blaw, 

In vain to me ilio vi'lets spring ; 
In vam to tr.e in glen or shaw, 

Tliu mavis and the lintwhite sing. 

Tiie merry plonph-hny cheers his team, 

VVi' joy the leniie sceil.<man stalks, i 

Bill life to me's a weary dream, 

A dream of ane tlial never wauks. 

The wp.nton coot the water skims, 

Amaiifj the reeds the diickhnus'cry, 
The siaiely gvva-i majtsiic swims, 

Arid eveiy Ihipc id blett but I. 



! j ISS POEMS, 

i I The shepp-herrl stecks his fanlding s!ap, 

! I And owre llie moorlands whistles slirill, 

1 1 Wi' wild, unequal, waiiil"tiii'4 slop 

! i lueel liiin on ilie dewy liill. 

I i And when thn lark, 'tween lii;ht and dark, 

i I Biillie waiikens by tiie daisy's side, 

{ I Aixl numnts and sinjrs on tiiiteritii; wings, 

I j A wo-woni ghaisl 1 liaiiieward glide. 

I ! Come, Winter, with Uiin(? aitjiry Iiowl, 

j I And ra;'m!r bend the nakeil tree; 

1 j Thy cloom will sooili my cheerless soul, 

i 1 When Nature ali is sad like me ! 



i\ THE DISCOJ^J'SOL.ITE LOFRR. 

': I Now spriim has clad the firovos in qreen, 

I j And strew'd the lt;a wi' Mowers , 
! 1 Tiie fnrrow'd wavinu' corn is seen 

I I Rejoice in fosU'rinsi showers ; 
!{ Wnile ilka thin!; in nature join 
I j 'I'licir sorrows to foreiio, 

i 1 O why tiuis a!) aione are mine 

I j Tlie weary steps of wo I 

I I The trout within yon wiinpling burn 
I j Glides swift, a silver liart, 

j And safe beneath the shady thorn 

i ■ Defies tlie ani^Ier's art • 

i I My life was ance ih.it careless slrcitn, 

\ I That wanton tronl was I ; 

I i But >ove, wi' nnrelentinir heatn, 

; i Has scorcli'd my fountains dry. 

i I Tlie little flow'nu's pe:;ceful lot, 

j i In yonder clifTtliat jirows, 

j i Which, save the linnet's rtiglit, I wot, 

{ j Nae ruder visit knows, 

! ' Was mine ; till love has o'er me past, 

! I And bli-ihled a' my bloom, 

i ! And m.»,v beneath the withering blast 

I ' Rly youth and joy consume. 

• I The waken'd lav'rock warbiing springs, 

: ! And climbs the early sky, 

! j Wiimowinc blithe her dewy wings 

! 1 In inormng's rosy eye ; 



CUIEFL Y SCO TTISU. 133 

Ab little reckt I sorrow's power, 

L'riiii (iie mAve:y snare 
O' vviicliiii? !(ivo, in Iiicklpss hour, 

Rlaiie aie tlie- iliiull o' care. 

O ha(i my fiite heen Greenland snows, 

Or 'ifric's burning zone, 
Wi' Mt'n and Natnte lea<;u'd my foes, 

So Pugiry ne'er IM known ! 
Tlie wretcli wliase doom is, " hope nae mail," 

What tongue liis woes can tell ; 
Within wliase hosoni, save despair, 

Nae kijider spirits dwell. 



ii 

MJiR Y MOIilSOJf. I i 

ji 

Tune — " Bide ye yel." I I 

MARY, at tliy window be, ! 
!t is the witfii'd, iho trysted hour ! | ! 

Those smiles and <:lancis let me see, I j 

That make the miser's treasure poor; 
How hliti)ely wad I bide the stoiire, i 

A weary slave fiae suu to sun ; I 

Could I itie ricli reward secure, j j 

Tiie lovely Mary i\i orison. t i 

Yestreen wlien to tlie tremblinjr slrin", i 

Tlie dance gaod ihro' the lisililed ha', ! 

To thee my tVini;y took its wing, j 

I sat, but iK-ither heard nor saw : j 

Tho' this was fuir and that was braw, j 

And you tlie toa.-t of a' tlie town, | 

1 si<!h'd, and said amaiig liiein a', j j 

" Ye are na Alary Morrison." • j 

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, ' ' 
Wha for thy sake would gladly die 1 



Or canst thou break that heart of liia, 

Whase only fault i^^ loving theel 

If love for love iliou will na gie, 1 

At least be pity to me shown I ! 

A tboojlii ungentle caiina be j 

Tbe Ukoughi o' Mary Morrison. j 



1| 134 POEMS, I 

\^ \ 

I i FAIR JENNY. \ 

I j Tunc—^' Saw j'e my Hither V* \ 

I \ Where are the joys tliat I've met in tlic morning 1 j 

i i Thai daiic'd to the lark's oarly snug 7 i 

Where is tlie peace tliat avvaiteil my tvand'riog, | 

At evening, the wild woods anion;' 1 i 



1 1 

•; ! No more a winding the course of yfm river, 

• \ And marking sweet flow' rets so (air ; 

i j No more I iracn tiie lii.'ht footsteps of pleasure, 
I j But sorrow and sad sighing care. 

I j Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys, 
1 j And grim surly winter is near 1 

• I No, no, the bees liuinming round the gay roses, 

I Proclaim it the pride of the year. 

I ; Fain would I hide what I tear to discover, 
i i Yet long, long too well have I known : 

■ I All that has caused this wreck in uiy bosom, 
\ i Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone. 

I I Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal, 
; i Nor hope dare a comfort bestow: 

I i Come then, enamour'd and f cid of my angulsbf 
i Enjoyment I'll seek in my wo. 

i 



]\ ADDRESS TO THE WOOD-LJiRK, 

I i TVne— " Where'll bonie Ann lie." Or, «' Loch Erocb-fida.*' 

ii 

i! 



O STAY, sweet warl)ling wnodlark, stay, 
Nor quit for me the trembling spray; 
A hapless lover courts thy lay, 

Thy soothing, fond complaining 



Aeain, again that tender part, 

I i TJiat I may catch thy mcitiug art ; 

i j For surely that wad touch her ln'art, 
j Wha kills me with disilaining. 

; ! Say, was thv little mate unkind, 

i i And heard ihee as the careless wind 1 

; I Oh, nocht bin. love and sorrow join'd, 
; ! Sic notes o' wo could wuukeii. 



LL™- 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. ?J5 

Thnii tp!!s of ncvor-finline rarn; 
O' 8;t«'«:t[ilrff giipfaiid dark despiir; 
For I'liy f5 i^ake, t-wwx l,:r(l. n;*.- inuirl 
Or my poor Jicait is LroKui ! 



FBAGMKKT, 
JM WnnERSPOON's collectiok of scot'b sonob 

^ir — '♦ llii'jj'iie Graham," 

O WERE my lovp yon lilac fiiir, 
Wr I'liriilc lilivssditis H) il't spring; 

And I a bird u> sli. Jici ther*-, 

When wearied on n.y little wing; 

How I wad nionrn vviien it wa? torn, 
Hy juiiitiin wild, and winler rude! 

Bui I uad sini: on wanton wing, 
VV'liM' yoiiiliful May its bloom renew'd.* 

"O S'.ri mv iove were y n red rope, 
TImi iirows npoii tlie rastlu wa' 

And 1 mysel a dr.-ip o dt-w, 
liilu Jiei Loiiiii breast lo fa' ! 

" O, llipre lie\'ond evprpssion Mpst, 
I'd feast on beauty a' the ^iabt ; 

Seal'd on l«r silk-saft fp.n(ds to ri^st, 
Till flcy"d awa liy Plicebus' liiiUl." 



.^DDRKSS TO A LADY. 

On, wort thou in the ranid blast, 

l)n yonder lea, on yonder lea, 
My jl'iidie to the aniiy airi, 

I'd sliflter tliee, I'd shtjicr thee: 
Ol did inisfDrliiiie's bitter sinrins 

Around tliie blaw, an'und iliue blaw, 
Thy bield sruxdd lie my b.isom, 

To Hhare it a", to bhare it a'. 

* These stanzas were prefixed by Bums. 



i i laS POEMS, 

\ I Or were I in the wildest waste, 

; I Sae black atid l)are, sae black and bare, 

' Tile lieseri were a paradise, 

I j If ilioii wert there, if tlioii werl there : 
; ; Or were I moti:trcti o' llie silobo, 

I I Wr thee to reii^n, wi' tiiee to reign, 
1 1 Tlie brightest jewel in my crown, 

i I Wad be my queen, wad i)e my queen. 



TITE ^ULD JMJ\r. 



j But lately seen in {jlartsnme green 
I j The woods rejoice the day, 

j Thro' gentle showers t!ie laughing flowen, 
j In double pride were gay. 

j But now our joys are fl(!d 
j On winter Idasts awa'. 

j Yet maiden May, in rich array 
I Again shall bring them a*. 

j But my white pow, nae kindly thowo 
I Shall melt the snaws of age ; 

I My trunk of eild, but buss or bield, 
I Sinks in Time's winl'ry rage. 

j Oh, age has weary days, 
j And nights o' sleepless pain ! 

] Thou golden time o' youthf\il prime, 
Why com'st thou not again 1 



I i JOHJV ^J^DERSOJV, MY JO. 

\\ 

j I John Anderson, iny jo, John, 

I When we were first acquent, 

j Your locks were like the raven, 
Your bonie b^-ow was brent ; 

I But now your brow is held, John, 

j I Your locks are like the snow : 

I i But blessings on your frosty pow, 

i j John Anderson my jo. 






CniEFLY SCOTTISH. ttl l| 

John Antlerson my jo, John, \[ 

VVe clauib tlie lull lliffihher ; j 

And liiiHiit; a taiiiy ciay, Joliri, ' ; 

We vu liad vvi' uiic aiiiilitir; ; j 

Now \vt> iiiaiiii loiicr <ln\vii, John, ! 

iSi.l liaiu) in liaii.l we'll i:<>, !{ 

A:ul .sleep rlit'githtr ai ilie loot, j r 

Jolia Auduraoii my jo. i 1 



^VLD LJ1XG SYXE. 

Siiori.n auld aci)iiaimairro he forgotj \ \ 

Atiit iicvi'r iiniiiuiii to iiiiti' ? I ! 

SlioiiM aiil.l aiqnainlaiice be forgotj j \ 

And days o' laiig syne 1 1 1 

CHOKUS. • j 

For mild lav^ sync, my dear, i I 

Fur mild Lang sync, I ! 

We'll tiii'i a Clip o' klyi.dness yet^ i j 

For auld lang syne. '; • 

We t\va hae run alinnl tl>e biaes, ' i 

And pii'l liie s,M)\vaiis line ; < 

Bnt We've Wand* I'd nionie a weary foeJ, j I 

Sin' auld lanj; t^yne. j j 

For auld, &c. j j 

W^ twa Iiae pai<ll't i' ii:e burn, | j 

Frae nioiiiin ^iiu liil dine ; i i 

V But st-ay I't'uveen us braid Jiae roar'd, ! ; 

Sin' auld lang f^yne. ! i 

For auld, &.c. ' '■ 

And hero's a baud, my trusty fiere, I 

And iiie's a band o' ibine ; [ \ 

And we'll lak a rii,'bt guid willie-wauglitj 

For auld Ian;; syne. ; ; 

For auld, &c. \ 

And siirrly ye'll be your pint-stowp, '■■ \ 

Atiii surely I'll bi- nntie ; ■. ' 

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yeU ' 

For auld lang syne. ' 

For auld, fee. 

Vol. II. K 



I i;;8 POEMS, 



HOPELESS LOVE. 
Tune—^^ Liggcram Cosh." 

Blith k h.ie 1 boen on yon hill, 
As the lamli.s before ine ; 

Careless ilka ilioiighi and free, 
As ihe breeze rtew o'er me : 

Now nae longer sport and play, 
Mirlli or saws, can plea>e me j 

Lesley is sae fair and coy, 
Care and anguish seize me. 

Heavy, heavy, is tlie task, 

llopt'less love declaring : 
Treniltling, I dow iinchl but glow'r, 

Sighing, dumb, despairing ! 

If she wir.na rase the thraws, 

111 my boson J swelling; 
Underneath llie grass-green sod 

Soon maun be my dwelling. 



BAJ^KS OFJVJTH. 
Tana—'-' Robie Donna Gorach." 

Thb Thames flows proudly to the aea, 
Where royal cities stately stand ; 

But sweeter flows the Nilli to me, 
Where Commons ance had high command} 

When siiall I see thai honour'd land, 
Tiiat winding stream I love so dear! 

Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand 
For ever, ever keep me here 1 

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales. 
Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom! 

How sweetly wind ihy sloping dales, 

Where lambkins vvajiton thro' the broom! 

Tho' wandering, now, must be my doom, 
Far from iliy bonie banks and braes, 

May there my latest hours consume, 
Aniang the friends of early daya! 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. ITs 

BANKS OF CREE. j| 

Hkrk is the slen, and here the bower, 

All iinderneiiili ihe birchen shade; 
The village Itell has told the Jiour, 

O what can stay niy lovely maid T 

'Tis not Maria's whispering call ; 

'TIk but the baliny-breaihing gale, 
Mi.xt wiih iiome warbler's dying fall, 

The dewy star of eve to hail. 

It is Maria's voice I liear ! 

So calls t!ie woodlark in the grove, 
His little faiiiifu' mate to cheer, 

At once 'tis music — and 'tis love. 

And art thou come 1 and art thou true t 

O welcome dear to lovt; and me ! 
And let us all our vows renew, 

Along tho flowery banks of Cre? 



CiSTLE OORDOjV. 

Streams tliat glide in orient plains, 
Nevf r bound by winter's chains ; 
Glowing iiere on golden sands, 
There commix'd with foulest stains 
From tyranny's empurpled bands; 
These, their richly-gleaming waves, 
1 leave to tyrants and their slaves ; 
Give ine the stream that sweetly lavea 
The banks by Castle Gordon. 

Spicy forests, ever gay. 
Shading from the burning ray 
Hapless wretches sold to toil, 
Or the rutliless native's way, 
Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil ; 
Woods that ever verdant wave, 
I leave the tyrant and the slave ; 
Give me the groves that lofty brave 

The storms by Castle Gordon, ! 

Wildly here without control, ' 

Natuin reigns and rules the vrh»i« ; 



liO POEMS, 

In fhnt sohcr pensive mood. 
J.»»;arept to il«i f.-eliiig aoui, 
Slie plants the I'ort-st. po'jrs (he flooJ j 
LilVs |Mi()r d:iy I'll nnisiin^ ruv;. 
Aiui find at nisilit a sli»'it»>riii{! cave. 
Where waters tlovv and wiid \v(K»ila waTSf 
By l>onie Casile Gordon. 



j9FT0J\r WATER. 
Flow gently, sweet Afion, among t!iy pre^n braes; 
Plow Kently, I'll siim »hee a sonj> in ifiy praise ; 
Mv iMury's Jislecp by I'ly nnir'niiini': stream, 
Fiovv gently, sweet Aflon, disturb not b«;r drenni. 
\ I TIiou stock-dnve whose echo resounds thro' the glen, 

I Ye wiid-wiiisilins hiack birds in yon thorny d«>M, 

;1 Tlion L'reen crested lapwinj^, lliy screaniin;i forbear 

j I charge you, disturb not my sliunberin" fair. 

: I How lofty, sweet Afton, lliy neiiildiourin^ hiris, 

I P'ar niurk'd with the courses (.tthar, winding rilla; 



There daily I wam't^r as noon rises liii!!!. 

My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. 

How pleasant thy hanks and fireen valleys bi-lovf, 

Where wild in ihe woodlainla the primros»-s hntw ; 

There oft as mild ev'niny wec|»s over the lea. 

The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and rae. 

Thy crystal stream, Alton, how lovely it ulidfs, 

And wind? by tiie cot where my Mary ronbis: 

llow wanton tliy waters her snowy ft'Hi lave, 

Ats gath'ring sweet How'ret's slie steins thy clear wavfit 

Fli>w fiently, sweet Afton, anion}' thy {ir<>en braes, 

Flow cenlly, sweet river, the theme t»f my lays ; 

My Maiy's aslrep l)y thy nmrmnrinj; stream. 

Flow gently, sweet Aflon, disturb not her dream. 



TITK SACRED VOW. 

7'//HC— " Allan Water." 
By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove. 

While riio'bussank Uluw l?.-nlrddi ;* 
The winds wer<.' whisp'rinj; ihron<;h ihe grove, 

The yelljw corn was waving ready : 

^ mountain west of Strath- Allan, 2,000 feel high. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 

\ llstfin'd to a lover's sang, 

And ihniiglit on youtlifu' pleasures monie; 
And ay \\\c. wild-wood eciioes rang— 

O, dearly do I love lliee, Annie ! 

O happy be th»! woodbine bower, 
Nae iiit;luly bogie make it eerie; 

Nor ever sorrow ctain the hour, 
The place and time I met niy dearie ! 

Her liead upon my throbbing breasft, 
She, sinking, said, " I'm thine for evert ' 

While monie a kiss the sea! imprest, 
The sacred vow we ne'er should sever. 

The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae, 
The summer joys the flocks to follow ; 

How cheery through her shortening day, 
Is autumn in her weeds o' yellow ; 

But can they melt the glowing heart, 
Or chain the sou! in speecliless pleasure, 

Or thro' eachi nerve the rapture dart, 
Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure 1 



Ml 



THE RIGS O' BARLEY. 



Tune—" Cora rigs are bonie." 

It was upon a Lammas night, 

Wlien corn rigs are bonie, 
Beneath the moon's unclouded light, 

I held awa to Annie: 
The time flew by wi' tentless heed. 

Till 'tween the late and early ; 
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed, 

To see me through the barley. 

The sky was blue, the wind was still. 

The pioon was shininu clearly ; 
I sal her down wi' right good will, 

Amang the rigs o' barley : 
I kent her lieart was a' my ain; 

I lov'd her most sincerely ; 
I kiss'd her owre and owre agaiSt 

Amang the rigs o' barley. 



U2 rOL.MSj. 

1 'nck'd iifi in sny (nTid emiirscej 
Her \\viv:\ was li-;)!ii!g r:ir»-|y; 

My lilessi;ii-- (ci I'ta! luippy pib.ce, 
Aniaii!.' liif' li::^ <>" li.uicy ! 

But by ihf iii<;i<;i :uiil sMis «o lirisht. 
'J'liat sivoiu; tlai! ii"Ui sji clearly: 

She ay sivvi! hkss thai liiiMpy iii«;hS 
Asnaiig the ri^a o' IjatU-y. 

{ hae hoen 3>!iiiie wi' comrades dear ; 
! hue hcpn tnerry ilritikjji ; 

2 han bf't'P Jnyt't!' ::a!trriii coay ; 
1 !)ae bi'cii iiapny tliiiskni ; 

Sut a' thft jvJcagiirc'S "-'it I saw, 
Tho* WnvAi iiiiii's :li);.!.!.-.l tairly. 

Thai I'lappy rii^'ht was uMrih ihein a\ 
Aniaug ihe ri;;s o' bui Uy. 



Corn rii'Sy ffn' harhy rigs, 

Ciirn ri^'A ore hoiiif:; 
ril iif'cr fo'-irrt thai li'ippy night,, 

Mtiiuv.i; the riss Ki' Annie. 



I THE l.E.-hllia. 
\\ 

; \ When ucr ihe hill liio ensf rii star, 
|i 're!i> liiiiihiin-tiiiKj is no;ir, (I'v.lo; 

;,| Anil owsi'ii U>w i;.'- fiajnu.Mi tirUl, 
^i ^ Rofi'.rti s:iH (Itivvf rnid w. iuy O ; 

i\ * Down l)v ihi.' liiirii, wij-rr Minted l:i'ks 

h Wi' (Ij'W are .'i.ii\'„'i!i:i !:I(';m, my jc^ 

i • rii tisetit tiieooii t^rt; ica-rig, 

I I My aiii kind dwuit^ i). 

\ i In mirke.et p;ien, at luidaiKiit liocr, 
5 \ I'd rove, and no'cr b^ ccrir Q, 

{ I If ihro' that plen I caHi !o Ihoe- 
' My ain kind dwui<- (> 

I ASlho' liie niubt were n^^'er pae wild 
i ; And I were n«.''or sae wearie O,. 

1 1 I'd meet ihpo on i!ie lea-rig, 
; ' My ain kind dearie O. 



CHJEFL Y SCO TTISH. 143 

The huiilor lo'cs the mornin2 sun, 

To roust* lilt; uioiiiitaiii-ileer, my jo • 
Al nof.n th« lislurr Bceks the g!«'ii, 

Alnue, the burn lo slrct, ip.y jo ; 
ClvL* nu? ilic lioiir o' eloaitiiii gray, 

It iiiiikH my hear; sai; clicerie O, 
To nic«'l ihcp on tho I'Ti-rig, 

hly aiu kind ilt.arie O. 



THE ljiss of BALLOCHMYLE. i 

\\ 

♦TwAS f'vpn— the dewy fi(>I(ls were gicen, | j 

Of) evrry Mailo the pearls ha 112 ; ; j 

The 7/'jiliyr waiitoiiM round the tioan, j j 

And bore its (Va^rKiil sweets nlaiig : ! f 

In fvt-ry l'Uii tin; mavis sa.iir, i | 

All nature list'ninu' seenrd the while, \\ 

Ejtr»>{.t where preenwood echoes ''•'uigi \l 

Ausang tlie braes o* Uallocliinyte. j'| 

With careless step I onward stniy'd, \ \ 

My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy, \i 

When nitii'ina in a lonely glade, j| 

A maiden fair F chanc'd to sspy ; A 

Her Iwik was like the nioriuns;'s ej'e, : j 

Her a'r like nature's vernaf smile, \\ 

Perfection wliispor'd, passin;,' liy, i| 

Behold the lass o' Balloclimyle I ! j 

Fair if tlie morning in flowery May, \i 

^And sw«'et is niirht in Antimm mild \\ 

When rovina thro' the garden jray, || 

Or wHiidring in the loifcly wild : ll 

But w«miair, nanire's dar!iii"<» rliild ! if 

There all her charms she does rompite , .- 1 

Ev'u there !ier«)iher works are foil'd || 

By the bonie la»s o' Ballothmyle. j j 

O, had she been a corntry maid, • j 

And 1 the hap{>y Cfxintry swain, \\ 

Tho* shelter'd in the lowest shed \\ 

That ever rose in ?fo!laiid's plain! ! j 

Thro' weary winter's wind and rair i < 

With joy, wHh rapture, I would tcii t || 

Atu! nithtiy to my bosom strain \\ 

T^e borne lass o' Ballochiuyle. ' I 



144 POEMS, 

Then pride might clinib tlie slipp'ry steep, 

Wliere fame and honours lofty shine : 
And tliirst of gold might tempt the depp, 

Or downward seek tlie Jndian mine; 
Give me the cot below the pine. 

To tend tlie flocl\S, or till the soil, 
And every day have joys divine, 

Wi' tlie bonie lass o'Ballochmyle. 



! BOJ^IE LESLEY. 

\\ 

j j O SAW ye bonie Lesley 

I As she gaed o'er tlie border ? 

: She's gane, like Alexander, 

I To spread her conquests farther. 

j To see her is to love her, 

• And love but her for ever : 

[ • For Nature made her what she is, 

j j And ne'er made sic anither ! 

j j Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, 

Thy subjpcts we, before thee ; 
Thou art divine, fair Lesley, 
The hearts o' men adore thee. 

The Deil he could na scaith thee. 
Or auijlit that wad belan? thee : 

He'd look into thy bonie face, 
And say, " I caniia wrang thee." 

j i The Powers aboon will tent thee ; 
I j Misfortnne sha' na steer thee ; 

! Thou'rt like themselves, sae lovely, 
I j That ill they'll ne'er let near \hca. 



Return again, fair Lesley, 

Return to Caledoniel 
That we may brag we hae a Isas 

There's nane again sao bonie 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH. 14i 

BONIE JEAN. 

There was a lass, and she was fa r 

At kirk and market to he seen, 
When a' the fairest maids were met, 

The fairest maid was bonie Jean. 

And ay she wrought her mammie's wark. 

And ay she sang sae merrihe ; 
The blithest bird upon the bush 

Had ne'er a lighter heart than sue. 

But hawks will rob the tender joys 

That bless the little lin«whHe's nest ; 
And frost will blight the fairest flowers, 

And love will break the soundest rest. 

Young Robie was the bra west lad, 
The flcwer and pride of a' the glen ; 

And he had owseii, sheep, and kye, 
And wanton naigies nine or ten. 

He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste, 

He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down ; 
And lang ere witless Jeanie wist, 

Her heart was lint, Ler peace was stown. 

As in the bosom o' the stream. 
The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en ; 

So trembling, pure, was tender love, 
Within the breast o' bonie Jean. 

And now she works her mammie's wark, 

And ay she sighs wi' care and pain ; 
Yet wist na what her ail might be, 

Or what wad mak her weel again. 

But did na Jeanie's heart loup light. 

And did na joy blink iii her e'e, 
As Robie tauld a tale o' love, 

Aa e'enin on the lily lea 1 

The sun was sinking in the west. 

The birds sang sweet in ilka grove : 
His cheek to her's he fondly prest, 

And whisper'd thus his tale o' love. 

O Jeade fair, I lo'e thee dear ; 

O canst thou think to fancy me 1 
Or wilt tiiou leave thy mammie's cot, 

And learn to tent the farms wi' me T 



1 

w 

il 

. 1 

146 POEMS, 


At barn or byre thou sliaU na drudge. 
Or naething else to trouble thee ; 

But stray amang the lieather-bells, 
Ar;d tent the wavuig corn wi' me. 


Now what could arUef-s Jeanie do ? 

Slie had na will to say him na : 
At length she blusli'd a sweet consent. 

And love was ay between lliem iwa. 


1 


j TO JEAjYIE. 


I .^/r-" Cauld Kail." 


CoMK, let me take thee to my breast, 
And pledge we ne'er shall sunder ; 

And I shall spurn, as vilest dust, 
The warld's wealth and grandeur ! 


j And do I hear my Jeanie ovm, 
I That equal transports move iier 1 
i I ask for dearest life alone 
1 That may I live to love her. 

i 



!i 



Thus in my arms, vvi' all thy channa, 
1 clasp my countless treasure ; 

I'll seek nae mai«- o' heaven to share, 
That sic a moment's pleasure: 

And by thy e'en, sae bonie blue,- 
I swear I'm thine for ever : 

And on thy lips I seal my vow, 
And break it shall I never. 



DJimTT DAVIE. 

Now rosy May comes In wl' floweri. 
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowo»: 
And now comes in my happy hours, 
To wander wl' my Davie. 



iL= 



CHIEFL Y SCO T TISU. 147 



^leet me on the warlock knowe, 
Dainty .Davie, dainty Davits. 

There Fll spend the day "xi" you 
My ain dear dainty Davie. 

The crystal waters roinid us fa', 
1 The meny Mrds are lovers a', 

j The scented breezes round us hlaw, 

I A-wanderin? vvi' my Davie. 

1 Meet me, &.c. 

I When purple morning starts the hare, 

i To steal upon her early faro, 

j Then thro' the dews I wil! repair, 
{ To meet my faithfu' Davie. 

i Meet me, &c. 

I When day, expiring in the west, 

I The curtain draws o' Nature's rest, 

I I flee to liis arms I lo'e best, 
I And that's ray ain dear Davie. 

! CHORUS. 

j Jdeet mc on the warlock knowe, 
I Bonie Davie, dainty Davie, 

I There Fll spend the day wV you^ 
I My ain dear dainty Davie. 



i LOVELY J^JIXCY. 

I Tuns—^'' The Quaker's wife." 

j TniNK am I, my faitliful fair, 

Thine, my lovely Nancy ; 

I Ev'ry pulse along my veins, 

I Ev'ry roving fancy. 

I To thy bosom lay my heart, 

I There to throb and languish : 

j Tho' despair bad wrung its core, 

I That would liea! its anguish. 



TaXe away those rosy lips, 
Rich wiih balmy treasure ; 

Turn away thine eyes of love 
Lest I die with plcasnrs. 



148 POEMS, 



What 13 life when wanting love 1 
Night without a nioniing : 

Love's the cloudless suianier sky 
Nature gay adorning. 



CLO UDEJ^ KJSrO WES. 
Thine— '•'■ Ca' the Yowes to the knowes. 



Oi' the yoioea to the knowes, 
Co* them whare the heather groics, 
Ca' them whare the burnie rows. 
My bonie dearie. 

Hark, the mavis' evening sang 
Sounding Clouden's woods aniang ; 
Then a-faulding let us gang, 
My bonie dearie. 

Ca' the, &c. 

We'll gae down by Clou den side, 

Thro' the liazels spreading wide, 

O'er the "waves that sweetly glide 

To the moon sae clearly, 

Ca' the, &c. 

Yonder Clouden's silent tow'rs, 
Where at moonshine midnight hours, 
O'er the dewy bonding flowers, 
Fairies dance sae cheery. 
Ca' the, &c. 

GhaJst nor bogle shalt thou fear ; 
Thou'rt to love and Jieaven sae dear, 
Nocht of ill may come thee near 
illy bonie dearie. 

C^' the, &c. 



I Fair and lovely as thou art, 

I Thou hast stown my very heart ; 

j I can die — but canna part, 
I My bonie dearie, 

i Ca' the, &c. 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH, 149 

TO CKLORIS. 
IVne— " aiy lodging is on the cold grouoA. 

My Cliloris, mark how green the groves, 

The primrose banks how fair : 
The balmy gales j;wake the flowers, 

And wave thy tlaxen hair. 
The lav' rock shuns the palace gay, 

And o'er the cottage sings: 
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween. 

To shepherds as to kings. 
Let minstrels sweep the skiJfu' string 

In lordly lighted lia' : 
The shepherd stops iiis simple reed. 

Blithe, in the birken siiaw. 
The princely revel may survey 

Our rustic dance wi' scorn ; 
But are their hearts as light as ours, 

Beneath the miiJc-white thorn 1 
The shepherd in the flowery glen, 

In shepherd's phrase will woo : 
The courtier tells a finer tale, 

But is his heart as true ? 
These wild-wood flowers, I've pu'd, m deck 

That spotless breast o' thine ; 
The courtier's gems may witness love — 

But 'tis na love like mine. 



CHLORIS. 

O BONiE was yon rosy brier, 

That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man 
And bonie she, and ah, how dear ! 

It shaded frae the e'enin sun. 

Yon rose buds in the morning dew, 
How pure amang the leaves sae green ; 

But purer was the lover's vow 
They witness'd in their shade yestreen. 

All in its rude and prickly bower, 
That crimson rose how sweet and fair! 

But love is fur a sweeter flovi'er 
Amid iife'i^ thorny path o' cnre. 



150 POEMS, 

The pathless wild, and wimpling burn, 
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine ; 

And I the world, nor wish, nor scorn, 
Its joys and griefs alike resign. 



LjISSJE Wr THE LIXT WHITE L0CK9 
Tune—"' Rothemurche's Rant" 

CHORUS. 

Lassie wV the lintishite locks, 

Bonie lassie, artless lassie, 

JVilt thou wV rnc tent the flocks , 

Wilt thou be my dearie O ? 

Now nature deeds the flowery lea, 
And a' is young and sweet like tlice ; 
O wilt thou share its joys wi' me, 
And say tliou'lt be"my dearie O ^ 
Lassie, &c. 

And when tlie welcome simmer-shower 
Has cheer d ilk drooping little flower, 
We'll to the breathing woodbine bower 
At sultry noon, my dearie O. 
Lassie, &c. 

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray. 
The weary eheare/'s hamcward way ; 
Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray. 
And talk o' love, my dearie O. 
Lassie, &lc. 

And when the howling wint'ry blast 
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest, 
Enclasped to my faithfu' breast, 
I'll comfort thee, my dearie O. 
Lassie, &c. 



CHIEFL Y SCO TTISH IK 

THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. 
7Vn«— *' Thia is no my ain house '• 



O this is no my ain lassie. 
Fair tho* the lassie be; 

O weel ken I wy ain lassie., 
Kind love is in her eV. 

I see a form, I see a face, 
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place ; 
It wants, to me, the witching grace, 
The kind love that's in her e'e. 
O this, &c. 

She's bonie, blooming, straight, and tall, 
And lang has had my heart in thrall ; 
And ay it charms my very saul, 
The kind love that's in her e'e. 
O this, &c. 

A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, 
To steal a blink by a' unseen ; 
But gleg as light are lovers' een, 
When kind love is in the e'e, 
O this, &c. 

It may escape the courtly sparks, 
It may escape the learned clerks ; 
But weel ll»e watching lover marks 
The kind love tliai's in her e'e. 
O this, &c. 



JESSY. 
Here's a health to thorn that's awa, hiney. 



Henfa a health to one Ilo^e dear, 

Hereof a health to ane J lo'e dear; 

Tlum art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meety 

Jlndtoft as their parting tear— Jessy I 



15S POEMS, 

Altho' thou maun never be mine, 

Altho' even hope is denied ; 
Tis sweeter for Ihee despairing, 

Than aughl in the world beside— Jca^f ! 
Here's, &c. 

I mo»*ri thro' the gay, gaudy day, 
As hopeless I muse on tliy charms ; 

But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, 
For then I am lock'd in thy arms— Jessy ! 
Here's, &c. 

I guess by the dear angel smile, 
I guess by the love-rolling e'e ; 

But why urge the tender confession 
♦Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree— Jeary 1 
Here's, &c. 



THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY, 



Bonie lassie^ will ye go, will ye go, will yt g9. 
Bonie lassie, will ye go to the birks ofAber/uigt 

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, 
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays, 
Come, let us spend the lightsome days 
In the bitks of Aberfeldy. 

Bonielassij, Sec. 

While o'er their heads the hazels hing. 
The little birdies blithely sing, 
Or lightly flit on wanton wing 
In "the birks of Aberfeldy. 

Bonie lassie, &c 

The braes ascend like lofty wa's, 
The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's, 
O'er-hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws, 
The birks of Aberfeldy. 

Bonie lassie, &c 

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers^ 
White o'er the liims the bumie pours. 
And, rising, weets wi' misty showerB 
The birks of Aberfeldy. 

Bonie lassie, tee. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 153 

Let Fortune^s gifts at random flee, 
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, 
Supremely blest wr love and thee, 
In the birks of Aberfeldy. 

Bonie lasfiie, &c. 



THE ROSE-BUD 

A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, 
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, 
Sae gently bent its tliorny stalk, 
All on a dewy morning. 

Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled. 
In a' its crimson glory spread. 
And drooping rich the dewy head, 
It scents the early morning. 

Within the bush, her covert nest, 
A little linnet fondly prest, 
The dew sat chilly on her breast 
Sae early in the morning. 

She soon shall see her tender brood, 
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood, 
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd. 
Awake the early morning. 

So thou, dear bird, young Jenny fair, 
On trembling string or vocal air. 
Shall sweetly pay the tender care 
That tents thy early morning. 

So thou, Bweet rose-bud, young and gay, 
Shall beauteous blaze upon the day, 
And bless the parent's evening ray 
That watch'd thy early morning. 



PEOOY\S CHARMS. 
TViM— *» N. Gow's Lamentation for Abercaimy." 
Whkre braving an^ry winter's storms. 

The lofty Ochels rise, 
Far in their shade my Peggy's charms, 
First blest my wondering eyes. 
Vol.. II. L 



i 154 POEMS, 

! As one who by some savage Ftream, 
i A lonely gem surveyp, 

i Astonish'd, doubly marlis its beam, 
j With art's most polish'd blaze. 

Blest be the wild seqiiester'd shade, 

And blest the day and hour, 
Where Peggy's charms I 'j-'t survey'd, 

When first I felt their jk.,.. . ! 
The tyrant Death with griiu control 

May seize my fleeting breath ; 
But tearing Peggy from my soul 

Must be a stronger death. 



THE BT.ISSFUL DAY. 
TVinc—" Seventh of November." 

The day returns, my bosom burns, 

The blissful day we twa did meet, 
Tho' winter wild in tempest toii'd, 

Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet. 
Than a' the pride that loads tlie tide, 

And crosses o'er the sultry line ; 
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes. 

Heaven gave me more, it made thee min^ 

Wliile day and night can bring delight. 

Or nature aught of pleasure give; 
While joys above, my mind can move, 

For thee, and tliee alone, I live ! 
When that grim foe of life below 

Comes in between to make us part ; 
The iron hand that breaks our band, 

It breaks my bliss— it breaks my heart 



COjrSTAN'CY. 
TVnc— " My love is lost to me.' 

O, WERE I on Parnassus* hill ! 
Or had of Helicon my fill ; 
That I rnigbi catch poetic skill, 
To sing how dear I love thee. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. igft 

But Nilh maun be my Muse's well, 
My Muse maun be thy bonie sel : 
On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell, 
And write how dear I love thee. 

Then come, eweel Muse, inspire my lay I 
For a' the lee-lang simmer's day, 
I couldna sing, I couldna say, 

How much, how dear 1 love thee. 

I see thee dancing o'er the green, 
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean, ' 
Thy tempting lips, thy roguish e'en— 
By heaven and earth, i love thee ! 

By night, by day, a-field, at hame, 
The thoughts o' thee rny breast inflame ; 
And ay I muse and sing thy name, 
I only live to love thee. 

Though I were doom'd to Wander on, 
Beyond the sea, beyond me ean, 
Till my last weary sand was run ; 
Till then— and then I love thee. 



LOVELY JEJiJ^. 
7\tnc— " Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey 

Op a* the airts the wind can blaw, 

I dearly like the west, 
For there the bonie lassie lives, 

The lassie I lo'e best : 
There wild woods grow, and rivers row, 

And monie a hill between ; 
But day and night, my fancy's flight 

Is ever wi' my Jean. 

I see her in the dewy flowers, 

I eee her sweet and fair : 
I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 

I hear her charm the air : 
There's not a bonie flower that springs 

By fountain, shaw, or green ; 
there's not a bonie bird that slugs, 

Bat minds me o' my Jean. 



POEMS, 
THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE. 

! 

i I OAKD a waefu' gate yestreen, 

A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue : 
I gat my tieath frae twa sweet een, 

Twa lovely een o' bonie blue. 
*Twas not her golden ringlets bright ; 

Her nps like roses wat wi' dew, 
Her heaving bosom, lily white ; 

It was her een sae bonic blue. 

She talk'd, she sniil'd, my heart slie wyl'd, 

She charm'd my soul, I wist na how ; 
And ay the stound, the <leadiy wound, 

Cam frae her een sae bonie blue. 
But spare to speak, and spare to speed ; 

She'll aiblins listen to my vow : 
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead 

To lier twa een sav.- bonie blue. 



friLT THOU BE MY DEARIE1 

Wilt thou be my dearie? 

When sorrow wrings thy gentle heaJrti 
O wilt thou let nie cheer thee 7 

By the treasure of my soul, 
And that's the love I bear tliee! 

I swear and vow that only thou 
Shall ever be my dearie. 

Only thou, I swear and vow, 
Shall ever be my dearie. 

j Lassie, say thou lo'es me ; 

Or, if thou wilt na be my din, 

i ! Say na ihou'lt refuse me : 

i i If it winna, caima be, 

1 1 Tliou for thine may choose me ; 

1 1 Let me, lassie, (luickly die, 

! i Trusting that tiiou lo'es me. 

1 ' Lassie, let rne quickly die, 

1 j 1 rusting that thou lo'eg me. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 15? 

I.UCY. 

O, WAT ye v/ha's in yon town, 

Ye see the e'enin sun upon ? 
The fairest dame is in yon town 

The e'enin sun is shining on. 

Now haply down yon gay green shaw, 

She wanders by yon spreading tree. 
How blest ye flowers that round her biaw. 

Ye catch the glances o' her e'e. 

How blest ye birds that round her sing, 

And welcome in the blooming year, 
And doubly welcome be the spring, 

The season to my Lucy dear. 

The sun blinks blithe on yon town, 

And on yon bonie braes of Ayr : 
But my delight in yon town, 

And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair 

Without my love, not a' the charms 

O' Paradise could yield me joy ; 
But gie me Lucy in my arms,' 

And welcome Lapland's dreary sky. 

My cave wad be a lover's bower, 

Tho' raging winter rent the air ; 
And she a lovely little flovi'er, 

That I wad tent and shelter there. 

sweet is she in yon town. 

Yon sinking sun's gaen down upon : 
A fairer than's in yon town. 
His setting beams ne'er shone upon. 

If angry fate is sworn my foe, 
And suffering I am doom'd to bear ; 

1 careless quit all else below, 

But spare me, spare me, Lucy dear. 

For while life's dearest blood is warm, 
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart, 

And fihe— as fairest is her form. 
She has the truest, kindest heart. 



158 POEMS, 

I BLITHE PHEMIE. 

I CHORUS. 

Blithe, blithe and merry was shti 
Blithe by the banks of Em., 

^nd blithe was she but an* ben! 
And blithe in Qlcnturit glen. 

By OuGihtertyre grows the aik, 

?a Yarrow banks the birken shaw ; 
But Pheniie was a bonier lass 

Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw. 
BSithe, &c. 
Her looks were like a flower in May, 

Her smile was like a simmer morn ; 
She tripped by the banks of Em, 

As light's a bird upon a thorn. 
Blithe, &c. 
Her bonis face it was as meek 

As onie lamb upon a lea ; 
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet 

As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e. 
Blithe, &c. 
The Highland hills I've wander'd wide» 

And o'er the lowlands I hae been ; 
But Phemie was the blithest lass 

That ever trod the dewy green. 
Blithe, tec. 



j i CHARMIJ^G JfJlJ^J^IE. 

! ! Bbhind yon hills where Lugar flows, 

; i 'Mang moors and mosses many, C , 

j ! The wint'ry sun the day has clos'd, 

j I And I'll awa to Nannie, O. 

The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill; 
The night's baith murk and rainy, O ; 
But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal, 

An' owre the hills to Nannie, O. 
Mv Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young ; 

Nas artfo' wiles to win ye, O : 
May ill befa' the flattering tongue 
That wad beguile my Nannie, O. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 158 |i 


Her face is fair, her Iieart is true, 
As spotless as she's bonis, O : 

The op'ning i-owan, wet wi' dew, 
Nae purer is than Nannie, O. 


i 


A country lad is my degree. 
An' few there be that lien me, O : 

But what care I how few they be, 
I'm welcome ay to Nannie, 0. 


i 

1 
1 


My riches a' 's my penny-fee, 
An' I maun guide it cannie, O ; 

But warl's gear ne'er trouble me, 
My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O. 


1 

1 

1 
i 


Our auld guldman delights to view 
Hie sheep an' kye thrive bonle, O ; 

But I'm as blithe that bauds his pleugb. 
An' has nae care but Nannie, 0. 


1 


Come weal, come wo, I care na by, 
_ I'll tak what Heaven will sen' me, O : 
Nae Ither care in life have I, 
But live an' love my Nannie, 0. 




GREEN GROW THE RUSHES. 




A Fragment. 




CHORUS. 




Green grow the rashes, 01 
Green grow the rashes, 0! 

The sweetest hours that e'er 1 spent 
Are spent amang the lasses^ Ot 




There's nought but care on ev'ry han 
In ev'ry hour that passes, O ; 

What signifies the hfe o' man. 
An' 'twere na for the lasses, 1 
Green grow, &c. 


1 


The warly race may riches chase, 
An' riches stiJl may fly them, O ; 

An* tho' at last they catch them fast 
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. 
Green grow, be. 


! 

]j 
ii 

|! 

■ i 

' J 
j 



i^iO POEMS, 

Bot gic inc a caniiie hoar at e'en, 
My arms about my dearie, O : 

An' warly cares, an' warly men 
May a' gae tapsalteerie,"0. 

Green grow, fee 

For you sae doii^p, ye sneer at this, 
Ye're nou^liibiii. senseless ass.^s, Oj 

The wisest man t!ie warl' e'er saw, 
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. 

Green grow, &c. 

Anld Namre swears, the lovely dears 
Her noblest wo; k she classes, O ; 

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, 
An' then she n;ade the iasseg, O. 
Gieen grow, fltc. 



THE HIOIILA^TD LASSIE, 

Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair, 
Shall ever he my Muse's care ; 
Their titles a' are empty show, 
Gie me my Highland lassie, O. 

CHORTTS. 

inUiin the plen sae bushij, O, 
Jiboon the plain sae rushy, O, 
T set me doion wV right irood will^ 
To sing my Highland lassie, O. 

Oh, were yon hill and vallies mine, 
Yon palace and yon gardens fine ! 
The world then the love should know 
I bear my Highland lassie, O. 

Within, &c. 
But fickle fortune frowns on in?, 
And I maun cross the ragint,' sea ; 
But while the crimson currents flow 
I'll love my Highland lassie, O. 

Within, &c. 
Altho' thro' foreign climes I range, 
I know her heart will never change, 
For her bosom burns with honour's glOWj 
My faithful Highland lassie, O. 

Within, fee 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 

For her I'll dare the b'llows' roar. 
For her I'll trace a distant -shore, 
That Indian wealth may lustre tiirow 
Around my Highland lassie, O. 

Within, &c. 
She has my heait, she has my hard, 
By Facicd truth and honour's band, 
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low, 
I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O 

Farewell the giea sae bushy, O ! 
Farewell the plain sae rushy, O I 
To other lands i. now must go, 
To sing my Highland lassie, O. 



TVtM— " Banks of Bana.' 

Ybstreen I had a pint o' wine, 
A place where body saw na : 

Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine 
The raven locks of Anna. 

The hungry Jew, in wilderness, 

Rejoicing o'er his manna, 
Was naething to my honey bliss 

Upon the lips of Anna. 

Ye nionarchs, take the east and west, 

Frae Indus to Savannah, 
Gie me within my straining grasp, 

The melting form of Anna. 

Then I'll despise Imperial charms, 

An empress or sultana ; 
While dying raptures, in her arms, 

I give and take viih Anna. 

Awa, thou flaunting god of day ! 

Awa, thou pale Diana I 
Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray, 

When I'm to meet my Anna. 

Come in thy raven plumage. Night ! 

dun, moon, and stars, withdraw a' ! 
And bring an angel pen to write 

Mp tjanpt^^rv wi' my hmiH. ' 



POEMS, 

THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 

O LKEZE me on my spinning wheel, 
O leeze me on my rock and reel ; 
Frae tap to tae that deeds me bien, 
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en! 
I'll set me down and sing and spin, 
While lalgh descends the simmer sin, 
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal— 
O leeze me on my spinning wheel. 

On ilka hand the biimics trot, 
And meet below my theekit cot ; 
The scented birk and hawthorn white 
Across the pool their arms unite, 
Alike to screen the birdie's nest, 
And little fishes' caller rest: 
The sun blinks kindly in the biel. 
Where blithe I turn my spinning wbeeL 

On lofty aiks the cudhats wail, 
And echo cons the dolfu' tale ; 
Tlie lifUwhites in thr' hazel braes 
Delighted, rival ither's lays : 
The craik amang the claver hay, 
The paitrick whinin o'er the ley. 
The swallow jinkin round my sti^ 
Amuse me at my spinning wheel. 

Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy, 
Aboon distress, below envy, 
O wha wad leave this humble state, 
For a' the pride of a' the great 7 
Amid their flaring, idle toys, 
Amid their cumbrous, dinsomejovi. 
Can they the peace and pleasure feel 
Of Bessy at her spinning wheel 1 



THE CO UJ^TRY LASSIE, 

I\ simmer, when the hay was inawn. 
And corn wav'd green In lUra fleW. 

\Vhile claver Wooms white o'er tho lea, 
And roses blaw in ilka bield •; 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH, 163 

Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel, 

Says, I'll be wed, come o't what wiU ; 
Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild, 

guid advisement comes nae ill. 

Its ye hac wooers monie ane, 

And lassie, ye're but young ye ken ; 
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale, 

A routhie butt, a routhie ben : 
There's Johnnie o' the Buskie-glen, 

Fu' is liis barn, fu' is his byre : 
Tak this frae me, my bonie hen. 

Its plenty beets the luver's fire. 

For Jolmnie o' the Buskie-glen, 

1 dinna care a single flie ; 

lie lo'es sae weel his craps and kye, 

He has no luve to spare for me : 
But blithe's the blink o' Robie's e'e, 

And weel I wat he lo'es me dear : 
Ae blink o' him I wad nae gie 

For Buskie-glen and a' his gear. 

O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught : 

The canniest gate, the strife is sair ; 
But ay fu' han't is fechtin best, 

A hungry care's an unco care : 
But some will spend, and some will spare, 

An' wilfu' folk maun hae ihcir will ; 
S3nae as ye brew, my maiden fair, 

Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill. 

O, gear will buy me rigs o' land. 

And gear will buy me sheep and kye ; 
But the tender heart o' leesome love, 

The gowd and siller canna buy : 
We majr be poor— Robie and I, 

Light is the burden love lays on ; 
Content and luve brings peace and joy, 

What mair hae queens upon a throne 1 



T^M OLEX. 

Mt heart is a breaking, dear Tittie, 
Some counsel unto me come len'; 

To anger them a' is a pity. 
But what will I do wi' Tarn Glenl 



164 rOEJilS, 

I'm thinking, \vi' sic abraw feiiOH', 
In poortith I might make a /en' ; 

What care I in riches to wallow, 
If I maun marry Tarn (ilen 1 

There's Lowrie the laird g' Drumeller, 

" Guid day to you, brute." he comes ben 
He brags an' lie blaws o' his sill?r, 
i But when will he dance like Tara Glen 1 

} My minnie does constantly deave me, 
■ And bids me beware o' young men ; 

I They flatter, she says, to deceive me ; 
i I But wha can think sae o' Tam Glenl 

ii 

1 1 My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him, 
il He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten; 

i I But if it's ordain'd I maun lak him, 
! 1 O wha will I get but Tam Glen 1 

1 1 Yestreen at the Valentine's dealing, 

i I My heart to my mou gied a sten ; 

I j For thrice I drew ane without failing, 

j : And thrice it was written Tam Glen. 

li 

! I The last Halloween I was waukin 

i j My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken : 

I I His likeness cam up the house staukin, 

I } And Uie very gray breeks o' Tam Glen ! 

Some counsel, dear Tittie, don't tarry ; 

I'll gie ye my bonje black hen, 
Gif ye will advise me to marry 

The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen. 



A XE-A JTD-T WE ^TTY. 
Titnc— " The Moudlewort." 



.4r' O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam! 

Av^ hcy^ sweet ane-and-ticenty, 7\t$nl 
rU learn my kin a rattlin sang; 

An' I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam> 



CHIEFL, Y SCO T TISH. 165 

Thfey snool me sair, and haud me down, 
And gar me look like bluntie, Tam ! 

But three short years will soon wheel roun' 
And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam ' 
An' O, &c. 

A gleib o' Ian', a claut o' gear, 

Was left me by my auntie, Tam ! 
At kith or kin I need na spier, 

An' I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam. 
An' O, &c. 

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, 

Tho' I mysel hae plenty, Tam ! 
But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof, 

I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tam. 
An' O, &c. 



SOMEBODY. 

My heart is sair, I dare na tell. 

My heart is sair for somebody I 
I could wake a winter night 
Tor the sake o' somebody. 
Oh-hon ! for somebody ! 
Oh-hey J for somebody ! 
I could range the world around, 
For tU3 sake o' somebody. 

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, 

O, sweetly smile on somebody I 
Frae ilka danger keep him free. 
And send me safe my somebody. 
Oh-hon ! for somebody ! 
Oh-hey ! for somebody ! 
1 wad do— what wad I not ?— 
For the sake o' somebody I 



O WHISTLE, <S-c. 

CHORUS. 

O whistle, and Fll come to you, my lad; 
O lehistle, and I'll come to you, my lad; 
Tio^ father and mither and o' should gat naif 
O whistle, and Pll come to you, my lad. 



166 POEMS, 

But warily tent, when ye come to court me, 
And come na uiilcss the back-yett be a-jee ; 
Syne up the back-slilo, and let naebody see, 
And couie as ye v/ere na comin at me. 
And come, &c. 

O whistle, &c. 

At khk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, 
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a (lie : 
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e, 
Yet look as ye were na lookin at me. 
Yet look, &;c. 

O whistle, &.C. 

Ay vow and protest that yc care na for me, 
And whyles ye may li{;ht!y my beauty a we© 1 
But court na anither, tho' jokin ye be, 
For fear that she wyle your fancy fraemo. 
For fear, eke. 

O wbis'Je, fee. 



THE YOZLYO J.ASSIE. 

What can a young lassie, what shall a young 
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man 1 

Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie 
To sell her poor Jennie for siller an' Ian ! 
Bad luck on the penny, &c. 

He's always oompleenin frae mornin to e'enin, 
He hosts and he iiirples the weary day lang ; 

He's do}lt and he's dozin, his bluid it is frozen, 
O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man ! 

He hums and ho hankers, he frets and he cankera, 
I never can please him, do a' that I can ; 

He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows, 
O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man ! 

My auld auntie Katie upon me taks pity, 
I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan ; 

I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart break falm, 
And then his auld'brass will buy me a new ptUk 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 167 

!1 

MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL. ; 

O miKLB thinks my liive o' ray beauty, 

And meikle tliinks my hive o' my kin ; 
But little thinks my luve I ken brawiie, 

My tocher's the jewel has charms for him. , 
It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree, 

It'B a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee ; I ! 

My laddie's sae moikle in luve vvi' the siller, j 

He canna hae luve to spare for me. '■ j 

Your proffer o' luve's an airl-penny, j j 

My tocher's tin; bargain ye wad buy ; j | 

But an' ye be crafty, I am cunniu, 1 1 

Sae ye wi' anither your forlune maun try. j j 

Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, i j 

Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree, > j 

Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread, j j 

And ye'U crack your credit wi' mae nor me. j i 



THE MERCEJ^j9RY LOVER. 

Time—" Balinamona era." 

A WA wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alaniis. 
The sleniler bit beauty you grasp in your arms, 
O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, 
O, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. 

CHORUS. 

7!leit hey for a lass wi* a tocher, then hey for a last wf a 

tocher, 
TTun hey for a lass wi* a tocher; the nice yellow guineas for 

me. 

Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, 
Acid withers the faster, the faster it grows ; 
But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes, 
lUc spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowea, 
Then hey, &c. 

And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, 
The brightest o' beauty may cloy when possest ! 
But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie impresf , 
The longer ye hae them— the raair they're carest, 
Then hey, &c. 



1G8 POEMS, 

MEG O' THE JULL. 

jlir — " O bonie lass, will you lie in a barrack^ ♦ 

I O KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten? 

Ac' ken ye what M«>g o' the Mill has gotten? 
She has gotten a coof vvi' a claut o' sMler, 
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller. 

The Miller was strappan, the Miller was ruddy ! 
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady : 
The laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl ; 
She's lelt the guid fellow and taen the churl. 

The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving ; 
The laird did address her wi' matter mair mo^g 
A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chained bridle, 
A whip by her side and a bonie side-saddle. 

O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing ; 
And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen ! 
A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle, 
But, gie me my love, and a fig for the wail ! 



AULD ROB MORRIS. 

There's auld Rob Mo/rig that wons in yon glen. 
He's the king o' guid fellows, and wale of auld men ; 
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and Une, 
And ae bonie lassie, his darling and mine. 

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May ; 
She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay; 
As blithe and as artless as the lambs on the lea. 
And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e. 

But oh ! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird. 

And my daddie has nought but a cot-house, and yard) 

A wooer like me mauna hope to come speed, 

The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead. 

The day comes to me, but delight bringa rae nane; 
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane ; 
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist, 
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in mv breast 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 

O, had she but been of lower degree, 
1 then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon mc ; 
O, how past describing had then been mjr blisw, 
As now my distraction no words can express. 



TO TIBBIE. 
Tune—*^ Invercald's Reel. 



O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, 
Ye would vae been sae sky; 

For laik o' gear ye lightly me. 
But trowth I care na by. 

YisTREEN I met you on the moor, 
Ye spak na, but gaed by like sloure ; 

Ye geek at me because I'm poor, 
But fient a hair care I. 

O Tibbie, &c. 

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, 
Because ye hae the name o' clinK, 

That ye can please me at a wink, 
Whene'er ye like to try. 

O Tibbie, &c. 

But sorrow lak him that's sae mean, 
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, 

Wha follows any saucy quean 
That looks sae proud and high. 
O Tibbie, &c 

Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, 
If that he want the yellow dirt, 

Ye'll cast your head anither airt, 
And answer him fu' dry. 

O Tibbie, &c. 

But if he hae the name o' gear, 
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, 

Tho' hardly he, for sense or leaf. 
Be better than the kye. 

O Tibbie, tc. 



POEMS, 

But Tibbie, iass, tak my advice, 

Your daddie's gear inaks you sae nice. 
The dea! a aae wad spier your price, 

Were ye as poor as I. 

O Tibbie, &;c. 
Tliere lives a lass in yonder park, 

I would na gte iier in her sark. 
For thee wi' a" thy thoasaud mark: 

Ye ncedna look sae high. 

O Tibbie, &c. 



D U.YCJIjY GRA Y. 

Duncan Gray came here to woo. 
Ha, ha, the wooing o't, 
On bhlhe yule night whon we were fa 

Ha, ha, the v/ooing o't, 
Maggie coost her head fu' l:igh, 
Look'd asklent and unco' skeigh, 
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh: 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't 
Duncan fleech'd and Duncan pray'd: 
: ; Ha, ha, &c. 

j ! Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig, 

! i Ha, ha, &e. 

I ! Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, 

j I Grathis een baith bleer't and Win', 

; I t^pak o' louping o'er a limi ; 

Ij Ha, ha, &c. 

j Time and chance are but a tide, 

1 1 Ha, ha, &c. 

j Slighted love is sair to bide, 

; Ha, ha, &c. 

j Shall r, like a fool, quoth he, 

1 For a haughty hizzie die ! 

j She may gae to— France for me ! 

!! Ha, ha,&c. 

! ' How it comes let doctors tell, 

\ i Ha, ha, &c. 

; Meg grew sick — as he grew beal, 

{I Ha, ha, &c. 

j ! Something in her bosom wrings, 

; j For relief a sigh she brings ; 

1 1 And 0, her een, they spak sic things I 

i I Ha ha, &t. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. TOl 

Duncan was a lad o' grace, 

Ka, ha, &c. 
Maggie's was a piteous case, 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Duncan could na be her death. 
Swelling pity smoorM his wrath ; 
Now they're crouse and cantie baith 1 

Ha, ha, &c. 



THE BRA TV WOOER. 
Ihine—^'' The Lothian Lassie." 

Last May a braw wooer cam down the Jang glea, 

And sair vi' his love he did deave nie I 
I said there was naething I hated like men, 

The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me. 

The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me. 

He Bpak o' the darts in my bonie black e'en, 

And vow'd for my love he was dying ; 
I said he might die when he liked, for Jean ; 

The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, 

The Lord forgie me for lying. 

A well-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, 

And marriage aflf-hand, were his proffers; 
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd, 

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers. 

But thought I might hae waur offers. 

But what wad ye think, in a fortnight or less, 9 

The dell tak his taste to gae near her ! j 

He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess, | 

Guessyehow, thejad! I could bear her, could bear hei^ ; 

Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her. 

But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care, j 

I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock, I 

And wha but my fine, fickle lover was there ; 
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, 
I glow'rd as I'd seen a warlock. 

But owre my left shouther I gaed him a blink, 

Lest neebors might say I was saucy ; 
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear " 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie. 



172 POEMS, 1 1 

I spier'd for my cousin, fn' couthie and sweet, i \ 

Gin she had recover'd her hearin, 1 i 

And how her new shooa fit her auld shackl't feet, | } 

But, heavens ! how he fell a-swearin, a-swearin. 

But, heavens I liow he fell a-swearin. 
He begg'd for Gudesake ! I wad be his wife, 

Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow : 
So e'en to preserve the poor body in !ife, 

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, 

I tliink I maun wed him to-morrow. 

WILLIE'S WIFE. I] 

Willie Wastle dwalt on Twe^d, ! | 

The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie, i i 

Willie was a wab;-^ter guid, j| 

Cou'd stown a clue wi' onie bodie : 

He had a wife was dour and din, 
O tinkler Madgie was her mother ; 



Sic a wifs as Willie had, 

I wad na gie a button for her. 

She has an e'e, she has but ane, 

The cat has iwa the very colour ; 
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, 

A clapper tongue wad deave a miller: 
A whiskin beard about her mou, 

Her nose and chin they threaten ither. 
Sic a wife, &c. 
She's bough-hough'd, she's hein-shinn'd, 

Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter; 
She's twisted right, she's twisted left, 

To balance fair in ilka quarter: 
She has a hump upon her breast. 

The twin o' that upon her shouther; 
Sic a wife, &c. 
Auld haudron by the ingle sits, 

An wi' her loof her face a washin ; 
But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, 

She dights her grunzie wi' a bushion ; 
Her walie nieves like midden-creels, 

Her face wad fyle the Logan-water, 
Sic a wife, &;c. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 173 

A PECK O' MAUT. 



O, Willis brew'd a peck o' inaut, 
And Fob and Allan cam to see : 

Three blither hearts, that lee-lant; night, 
Ye wad na find in Christenilie. 



We are nafou, we're na thatfou, 
But just a drappie in our e'e; 

The cock may craw, the day may daw^ 
And ay we'll taste tlie barley bree. 

Here are we met, three merry boys, 
Thice merry boys I trow are we ; 

Apd monie a night we've merry been, 
And monie mae we hope to be ! 
We are, &c. 

It Is the moon, I ken her horn, 
That's blinkin in the lift sae hie ; 

She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, 
But by my sooth sheMl wait a wee ! 
We arc, &c. 

Wha first shall rise to gang awa', 

A cuckold, coward loun is he '. 
Wha last beside his chair shall fa', 

lie is llie king amang us three ! 
We are, &c. 



THE LATVm. 

GA.HB is the day and iniik's the night, 
But we'll ne'er stray for foute o' light, 
For ale and brandy's stars ami moon, 
And bluid-red wine's the rising sun. 



TTUMi guiivaife^ count the lairin^ the lawtn, the lawin., 
Titn, guidwife, count the latcin, and bring a coggie mtdf 



174 rOEMS, 

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen. 
And semple folk maun fecht and fen* ; 
But here we're ix' in ae accord, 
For ilka man that's drunk's a lofd. 

Then guidwife, &c. 

My coggie is a haly pool, 
That heals the wounds o' care and dool ; 
And pleasure is a wanton trout, 
An' ye drink it a' ye'Il find him out, 
Then guidwife, &c. 



HOJ^ES T rOVERTY. 

Is there, for honest poverty. 

That hangs his head, and a' that ; 
The coward-slave, we pass him by, 

We dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that, 

Our toil's obscure, and a' that. 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 

The man's the gowd for a' that. 

What tho' on hamely fare we dine, 

Wear hoddin gray, and a' that ; 
Gie fools their eilkc, and knaves their wine, 

A man's a man for a' that ; 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Their tinsel show and a' that ; 
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that. 

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; 
Tho' hundreds worship at his word, 

lie's but a coof for "s' that : 
For a' that, and a' tnat. 

His riband, star, and a' that, 
The man of independent mind, 

He looks and laughs at a' that. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquia, duke, and a' that ; 
Bot an honest man's aboon his might 

Guid fsith he manna fa' that ! 



CIllEFL Y S CO TTISH, 173 

For a' ihat, ai:d a' tliat, 

Their dignities and a' that, 
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth, 

Are higher ranks than a' that. 

Then let ns pray that come it may, 

As come it will for a' that, 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the eartb, 

May bear the gree, and a' that : 
For a' that, and a' tliat, 

Its coming yet, ("or a' that. 
That man to man the warld o'er, 

Shal! brothers be for a' that. 



COJi-TEJ^TMEJ^T. I 

Tiiwc— " Liimpg o' Pudding." i 

CoNTKNTED wi' little, and cantie wi* mair, | 

Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, ! 

I eie them a skelp, as they're creeping alang, j 

Wi' a cog o' giiid swat3, and an auld Scottish sang. | 

I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought ; i 

But man is a sodge'-, and life is a fanght : | 

My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch, I 

And my Freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touchy I 

A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', 1 

A night o' good fcllowslsip sow'hers it a' : I 

When at the blithe end o' our journey at last, ' 
Wha the devil ever thinks o' the road he has past? 
Blind chance, let her sn^.pper and stoyte on her way, 
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae: 
Come ease, or r ome travail ; come pleasure or pain ; 
Mj warat ward is — " Welcome, and welcome again !'* 



C.ILEDOJ^IA 
Tune — " Humours of Glen." 

Teeir groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, 
Where bright beaming summers exalt tlie perfume, 

Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, 
WI' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom. 



178 POEMS, 

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, 
Wheie the blue-bell andgowan lurk lowly unseen: 

For there lightly tripping iimang the wild flowers, 
A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. 

Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys, 

And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave : 
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace, 

What are they 1 The haunt of the tyrant and tlave : 

The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fouatains. 
The brave Caledonian views with disdain: 

He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, 
Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' liia Jean. 



j TUB BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR, 

i Between the Duke of .Irgyle and the Earl of Mar. 

I ; « O CA.K. ye here the fight to shun, 

f i Or herd the sheep wi' me, man ? 

Or were ye at the Shorra-muir, 
And did the battle see, man 1" 
I I saw the battle sair and tough, 

And reeking-red ran monia a sheu"!!, 
i My heart, for fear, gae sough for sough, 

i To hear the thud;-:, and see the cluds, 

1 1 O' clans frae woods in tartan duds, 

1 1 Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man. 

1 1 The red-coat lads, wi' black cockades, 

! i To meet them were na slaw, man ; 

j I They rush'd and pusli'd, and bluid outgUflh'd, 

i i And roonie a bonk did fa', man : 

I j The great A rgyle led on his files, 

I I I wat they glanced twenty miles : 
They hack'd and hash'd, while broad-swords claah'd^ 
And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and sioash'd, 

Till icy-men died awa, man. 

But had yon seen the Thilibcgg, 

And skyrin tartan trews, man, 
When in the teeth they dar'd our whlgB, 

And covenant true blues, man ; 
In lines extended lang and large. 
When bayonets oppos'd the targe 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH iT? 

And tlioueands liastenM to the charge, 
Wi' Highland wiath tliey fiae the sheath 
Drew blades o' death, till out o' breath, 

They fled like frighted docs, man. 
" O how deil, Tarn, can that be true ? 

The chase gaed f lao the north, man : 
I saw myself, they did pursue 

The horsemen back to Forth, man ; 
And at Dumbiane, in my ain sight, 
They look the brii; v.i' a' their might, 
And straught to Sterling wing'd tlieir fii:ht- 
But, cursed lot ! the gaip,s were shut, 
And monie a huntit poor red-coat, 

For fear amaisl did swaft, man.-' 
My sister Kate cjun up the gate, 

Wi' crovA'die unto mc, man ; 
She swore she saw some rebels run 

Frae Perth unto Dundee, man: 
Their left-hand general had rae skill, 
The Angus lads had nae good will 
That day their neebors' bluid to spill ; 
For ftar by foes i!mt they .should lose 
Their cogs o' brose: all crying woes, 

And so ii goes, you see, men. 
They've lost some gallant gentlemen, 

Amang the Highland clans, man ; 
I fear my lordPanmure ia slain, 

Or fallen in whiggish hands, man : 
Now wad ye sing this double fight, 
Borne fell for wrang and some for riiiht ; 
But monie bade the world gu id-night ; 
Then ye may tell, how pell and me.'l. 
By red claymores, and muskets' knell, 
Wi' dying yell, llie tories fell. 

And Whigs to hell did flee, man. 



THE DUMFRIES VOLUJVTEERS. 
April, 1795. 
Tune—** Puah about the Jorum." 
Does hatighty Gau! invasion threat 7 

Then let the looiis beware, Sir, 
Theie'g vroodcn walls upon our ecus, 
And vOiEtiteera on BhorR. Sir 



t MS POEMS, 

i j The Nilh shall run to Corsincon,* 

^ I And Crillelt sink in Solway, 

i j Ere we permit a foreij,'n foe 

I ! On British ground to rally ! 

i Fall de rail, &o. 



O let us not like snarlin!» lykca 

In wrangling be divided ; 
Till slap come in an unco loun 

And wi' a rung decide it. 
Be Britain still to Britain true 

Amang oursela united ; 
For never but by British hands 

Maun British wranss be righted. 
Fall dc rail, &c. 

The kettle o' the kirk and state. 

Perhaps a claut may ftiil in't ; 
But deil a foreijin tinkler loun 

Shall evf r ca' a nail in't. 
Our father's bluid the kettle bought, 

And wha wad dare to spoil it ; 
By heaven the sacrilegious dog 

Shall fuel be to boil it. 

Fall de rail, &c. 

The wretch that wad a tyrant own. 

And the wretch, liis true-born brother, 
Who would set the mob aboon the throne^ 

May they be d — n'd together ! 
Who will not sing, " God save the King," 

Shall hang as liigh's the steeple ; 
But while we sifjg, " God save the King," 

We'll ne'er forget the People. 



7-irE frih'STLE. 

A BALLAD. 

^s the authenfir. prose history of the ff^istle is enriciu, 3 
shall here give it. 

In the train of J!nnn of Denmark^ when, she eam.e to SmI' 
land with our Jam. '■s the Sixth, there came over also a Dofnisk 
gentleman of gigantic stature and great prowei$^ and « 

* Ji hitrh hill at the source of the J^'ith. 

t ^ well-known mountain at the mouth of the >^>4«itsf 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 179 

Sf ^ffr^^"!'"'''" ''f^""^''^' J^ehad a little ehonxj IVhis- 
t^lul J x^*^ commencement of the orgies, he laid on the 
bil^^Ttu^AT''.^'^ ^'^*'"*^'' ^^ blow it^very body else 
JnX? „""^ *^ <A^/*o<cncy of the bottle, was t! earry off 
the fnistle as a trophy of victory. T,)e Dane produced efe- 

«r?lil:f-( "" cf'f?' f ''^""^ "" ^'"- '^ ^'f'^f' "t the courts 
of Copenhagen, Stockholm, Jifoscow, JVarsaw, and scvcra. 
OJ the petty courts in Germany; and challenged the Scots 
Bacchanalians to the alternative of trying his prowess, or 
else of acknowledging their inferiority/. 

•^fter many overthrows on the part 'of the Scots, the Dane 
was encountered by Sir Robert Lawrie of Maxwclton, an- 
cestor of the present worthy baronet of that name; who, after 
three days and three nigkis^ hard contest, left the Scandina- 
Vta7i under the table, 

And blew on the wliislie liis ic-qviitin shrill. 

iAKf^%^lT' ^?^ '" ^"' ^oJfr< bcfore-me'-.tioned, afterward* 

test the Whistle to Walter Riddel cf Glmriddel, who had 

married a sister of Sir Walter's. 

On Friday the \Gth of October, 1790, at Priars-Carse, the 

fTAtstlewaa once more contended for, as related in the ballad, 
^y tteprc^'cwt S,r Robert Lawrie ofJUazwelion; Robert Rid- 
rr^"?' "f^i^J^riddcl, lineal descendant and representative 
0/ Halter Riddel, who won the Wh'stle, and inwhose family 
tt uad continued; and JJlczandcr Ferguson, Esq. of Crairr- 
aarroch, likewise descended of the great Sir Robert; whfch 
last gentleman carried off the hard won honours of the field. 

I siNO Of a Whigtle, a Whistle of worth, 
1 Bing of a Whistle, the pride of the north, 
Was brou^'ht to the court of our good Scottish king, 
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring. 

Old Loda* still rueing the arm of Fingal, 

The god of the bottle sends down frorh his hall— 

" This Whistle's your challensro, to Scotland get o'er, 

And drink them to hell, Sir ! or ne'er see me more !" 

Old poets have eung, and old chronicles tell, 

What champions ventur'd, what champions fell ; 

The son of great Loda was conqueror still. 

And blew on the Whistle his requiem shrill. 

Tin Robert, the Lord of the Cairn and the Scaur, 
Unmatch'd at the bottle, unconquer'd in war, 
Da dr&nk his poor god-ship as deep as the eea. 
Mo tide of Uie Baltic e'er drunker than he 



See Ossiaii's Caric-tkura. 



180 POEJilS, 

Thus Robert, victorious, the troj>hy has gaiii'd : 
Which now in his house has for ages reinaiu'd ; 
Till tliree noble chieftains, and a\\ of his blood, 
The jGviaV contest again have reuew'd. 

Three jovous good fellows, with hearts clear of flaw 
Ccaigdaiioch, so famous for wil, wonh, and law ; 

i And trusty Gienriddel, so skill'd in old coiHa ; 

j And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines. 

i I Craigdarn'ch besan, with a tongup smooth as all, 

I Desiring Gienriddel to yield up the ^poii ; 

t Or else he would muster llie heads of the clan, 

' ! And once more, in ciaret, try which Vvas the D»an. 

i I "By the gods of the ancients '." Gienriddel replies, 

I i *' Before 1 surrender so glorious a prize, 

j I I'll conjure the glio^-^t of the great Rone More,* 

i I And bumper his horn with him twenty times o'er." 

i > Sir Robert, a soldier, no speech would pretend, 

i i But he n«'er tarn'd his hack on his foe — or his friend, 

I i Said, toss down the Whistle, the prize of the field, 

} And knee-deep in claret, he'd die, or he'd yield. 

\ To the board of Gienriddel our heroes repair, 

j. So noted for drowning of sorrow and care ; 

> » But for wine and for welcome not more known to fame, 

' I Than the sense, wit, and taste, of a aweet lovely dams. 

\ I A Bard is selected to witness the fray, 

I j And tell future ages the feats of the day ; 

! ! A Bard who detested all sadness and spleen, 

I I And wish'd that Parnassus a vineyard had been. 

1 1 The dinner being over, t!ie claret foey ply, 

J 1 And every new cork is a new spring of joy ; 

! ; In the band^ of o'd friendsliip and kindred so Bet, 

i j And the bands grew the lighter the more they were wet 

I Gay pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er : 

I i Blight Phcdbus ne'er witness'd so joyous a core, 

\ I And vow'd that to leave them he was quite forlorn, 

I I Till Cynthia hinted lie'd see them next mem. 

i Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the itlgbt, 

When gaJlant Sir Robert, to finish the figliC, 
Tum'do'etin one bumper a bottle of ved. 
And swore 'twas the way that their ancestor did. 

• See Johnson's TVwr to the IJtbridtt. 



CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. ISl 

Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautious and sage, 

No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage ; 

A high ruling Elder to wallow in wine ! 

He left the foul business to folks less divine. 

The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end ; 

But who can with fate and quart-bumpers contendt 

The' fate said— a hero should perish in light ; 

So up rose bright Fhcebus— and down fell the knight. 

Next up rose our Bard, like a prophet in drink : — 

*♦ Craigdarroch, thou' It soar wlien creation shall sink ; 

But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme, 

Come — one bottle more — and have at the sublune ! 

Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce, 

Shall heroes and patriots ever produce : 

So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay ; 

The field thou bast won. by yon bright god of day !" 



JOHJf BARLEYCORN.* 

▲ BALLAD. 

Therb went three kings into the east, 

Three kings both great and high. 
An' they hae sworn a solemn oath, 

John Barleycorn should die. 
They took a plough and plough'd him down. 

Put clods upon his head, 
And they hae sworn a solemn oath 

John Barleycorn was dead. 
But the cheerful spring came kindly on, 

And showers began to fall ; 
John Barleycorn got up again. 

And sore surprised them all. 
The sultry suns of summer came, 

And he grew :hick and strong, 
His head weel arm'd \vi' pointed speare, 

That no one should him wrong. 
The sober autumn enter'd mild. 

When he grew wan and pale, 
His bending joints and drooping head 

Show'd he began to fail. 

• Tkisis partly tompo$edanihG plan c^ an eld scngknowi 
bytkeeam^ name. 



': ii 

|: 1 82 I-'OEJIIS, CHIEFLY SCOTTISB. |i 

j ; His colour sicken'd more and more, ! 

I ; He faded into age, j 

i ; And tlien his enemies began 

jj To show their .deadly rage. 

1 1 They've ta'en a weapon long and sharp, 

j: ■ And cut him by the knee: 

i ' Then tied him fast upon a cart, 

t ! Like a rogue for forgerie. 

j ; They laid him down upon his back, 

• And cudgelled him full sore, j 
j i They hung him up before the storm, ■ 

And turn'd him o'er and o'er. I 

They filled up a darksome pit 

With water to the brim, 
Tiiey heaved in John Barleycorn, 

There let him sink or swim. 

They laid him out upon the floor, 

To work him farther wo, 
And still as signs of life appeared, 

They toss'd him to and fro. 

They wasted o'er a scorching flam9, 
The marrow of his bones ; 
I i Put a miller used him worst of all, 

I • For he crush'd him between two stones. 

I : And they hae taen his very hean's blood, 
j I And drank it romid and rciuid ; 

i I And still the more and more they drank, 
I ! Their joy did more abound. 

I I John Barleycorn was a hero bold, 
.; i Of noble enterprise, 
I ' For, if you do but taste his blood, 

• i 'Twill make your courage rise. 

i ; 'Twill make a man forget his «vo ; 

i I 'Twill heighten all his joy ; 

! ' 'Twill make the widow's heart to eingi 

I The' the tear were in her eye. 

; i Then let us toast John Barleycorn, 

I '■■ Each man a glass in hand ; 

ii And may his great posterity 

i ; Ne'er fail in auld Scotland ! 



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Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxic 
Treatment Date; March 2009 

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A WORLD LEADER IN COILFCTIONS PRESEf 

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